Humanity
by phoenixnz
Summary: Clark Kent is kidnapped by Lex Luthor and a female Pretender. It is up to Jarod, Miss Parker and Green Arrow to save him.


_**There are extraordinary individuals among us known as Pretenders. Geniuses with the ability to insinuate themselves into any walk of life, to literally become anyone. In 1963 a corporation called the Centre isolated one such Pretender, a young boy named Jarod. Locked in a controlled environment, they exploited his genius for their 'unofficial' research. Then, one day, their Pretender ran away.**_

Jarod was pursued for six years by a woman named Miss Parker, a woman with a tragic past, a woman with her own agenda. Then she disappeared. Along with Jarod's mentor, a psychiatrist called Sydney and a computer analyst known as Broots. No one else was skilled enough, or knew the Pretender well enough to locate him. Jarod was never found. With the loss of their greatest asset, the Centre's source of income dried up and it was forced to shut down all operations. None of the Pretenders they still controlled measured up to the genius of the original.

All except one. Raised in the controlled environment of a Centre satellite facility in the southern hemisphere, she had no knowledge of the outside world. A teenager when Jarod ran away, thirteen years later she had become a beautiful young woman. Like the rest, when all operations ceased, she was sold.

The facility at Blue Cove, Delaware was purchased by another corporation. Luthorcorp. Used for research into the effects of Kryptonite mutation, all assets, including the most skilled of Pretenders, became the property of one Lex Luthor.

2009

She walked the halls of the Centre, flanked by two armed security people. This facility was new to her. As dark and dim as her previous home, she knew nothing else. Her face showed no emotion. The guards could see she was a beautiful woman. Aged probably around 30, with dark brown hair and brown eyes. She was tall, somewhere near five ten, with a slim build. She was dressed simply in a black jumpsuit, the usual uniform for a Centre asset. But no, she was no longer a Centre asset. The Centre, although its new owner had kept the original name, was no more.

Sam glanced at the woman. She reminded him of someone. Except her eyes held no life – no joy, no sorrow. For all he knew, she could be a robot. A living, breathing, flesh-coloured robot. He sighed. He was tired. He'd been a sweeper for the Centre in the old days, assigned to Miss Parker. Those were the good old days. Miss Parker might have been a bitch at times, but if you did your job, you at least earned a modicum of respect from her.

He briefly wondered what had happened to her. Seven years she had been gone. Sydney and Broots had vanished as well. There were rumours, of course, after Mr Parker's disappearance. Miss Parker's father had jumped out of a plane while Mr Lyle and Raines had been bringing Jarod back to the Centre. Let me see, he thought, that was eight years ago. Jarod had once again vanished while Miss Parker had returned to the Centre to give her report to the triumvirate. She had accused Lyle and Raines of being too complacent. She had practically grown up with Jarod and knew him better than anyone. But the triumvirate had demoted her, reassigned her, sending a new team out to find Jarod. Sam smirked. They had failed in spectacular fashion.

Sam felt old. He was in his fifties now. The Centre had always been his life. He had no wife, no children. When the Centre had been sold, he had stayed on. There was nowhere else to go. Now he was stuck with escort duty.

They turned down a corridor and stood before a door which slid smoothly open. Sam took the woman's arm and led her into the room. She didn't struggle, not even looking at him. They stood in the middle of the room and waited.

Sam heard the smooth whirring of an electric wheelchair as the bald man came in. His body was encased in some sort of machine. In many ways, the bald man reminded Sam of Raines, the ghoul of the Centre who had always been dragging around an oxygen tank. Riddled with emphysema.

The bald man's face was curiously smooth. Sam had heard that many years ago, when this man was a small child, he had been involved in an accident which had left him without hair. All over his body. He wondered why it appeared the man still had eyebrows and eyelashes, if that was the case. Maybe they had been implants.

The man spoke.

"You can wait outside," he told Sam and the other guard. Sam had forgotten his name. He was new.

Nodding, Sam went out.

Lex Luthor looked at the woman who stood impassively.

"Name?"

She stared straight ahead.

"My designation is three-eight-dash-zero-five-tee."

Luthor nodded.

"Excellent. Do you know why you are here?"

The woman continued to stare straight ahead. She had obviously been well-trained.

"I am a Pretender. I am a Centre asset."

Her voice was toneless, without inflection. He could almost have been speaking to a robot.

"You are now my property," he said. "You are here to do my bidding."

"Yes sir." Her eyes flickered, but she said nothing.

"You have a question?" Lex asked, correctly interpreting her look.

"How does sir wish to be addressed. Sir."

How did he want to be addressed? The woman had been sold, as if she was a slave. So he supposed it would be appropriate.

"You may call me Master," he said.

He directed her to sit down in front of a monitor. A man who had been standing quietly in the corner of the room came forward, inserting a disk into the hard drive of the computer sitting beside the woman. Images flashed on the monitor of a young man in primary colours. He was tall, with a mop of black hair. Well-built and strong. There were photographs of him on a farm, at work in a newspaper office.

"You will study this," he said. "You will learn everything there is to know about this man. Then you will be taken to a new location. Your assignment is to bring this man to me. Is that clear?"

"Yes master," she said.

Lex smiled as he watched her study the images on the screen and then read the data on the disk, her eyes flicking quickly from side to side. It wouldn't take her long to learn all she needed to. Then Clark Kent would be his, to do with as he wished. You are mine, Clark Kent, he thought as a ripple of pleasure washed over him. You are mine.

Chapter Two

She regarded the scene dispassionately. Her assignment was clear. Find Clark Kent. Take him to her master.

She was in Kansas. Smallville. A town of around 40,000 population. Mostly rural, although a fertiliser plant owned by Luthorcorp employed half the working population. There was a small coffee shop/movie theatre in the centre of town. Approximately five miles out of town was her target. The Kent Farm. She had studied the man her master wanted and knew he would be there.

She sat quietly in the cab of the black SUV, staring straight ahead through the windscreen. The man beside her ignored her. His orders were only to escort, not talk to the thing. Neither he nor the driver considered it, designated three-eight-dash-zero-five-tee, anything but a tool for their boss' bidding. It was even less human than the thing they were here to retrieve.

They waited at the bottom of the drive. No need to call attention to themselves. The men watched as she got out, walking across the field to the yellow farmhouse, taking out a small tazer. It was loaded with Kryptonite. Poor bastard, one of the men, Harry thought. He doesn't have a chance.

Her eyes flicked over the buildings. Holding the tazer at the ready, she opened the door to the farmhouse and walked in, looking around, listening for the sounds of occupation. It was late morning on a Sunday. Her target would usually be working in the field at this time. Otherwise he would be in town, or in the city. She knew he was here. She understood him. This was his home, his sanctuary from the rigours of every day life.

Turning, she left the farmhouse and walked slowly and deliberately over to the barn. Suddenly, a dog growled, then barked furiously at her. She stepped away from the entry, her face blank. Show no fear, her training told her. She hid the tazer behind her back as footsteps came from inside the barn.

"Shush Shelby," a voice said.

She pasted on a smile, tucking a hand into her jeans pocket. Master had been clear on her uniform. She was to blend in. She had tied her hair back in a ponytail, not too harsh as to look severe on her face. She waited for him to come out.

"Can I help you?" he asked politely.

She knew little of beauty. Knowledge of art and aesthetics was something that was forbidden. But she knew what made something more desirable than another. And he was beautiful. His face was perfect, completely symmetrical. A wonderful work of design. His blue-green eyes were as clear as a lake on a summer's day. She shook herself mentally. Such thoughts were forbidden.

"I'm so sorry to bother you," she said, smiling brightly. "My car broke down on the road back there and I was wondering if I could use your phone?'

"Sure," he said. He stepped forward, toward her. Shelby growled a warning as he stepped within range. Startled, his eyes widened as she pointed the tazer and shot him. His face contorted in pain as he looked down and saw the electrode, falling to the ground as the electrical shock hit him. Even then he fought it.

Clark stared at the woman with the tazer. Her eyes were cold, lifeless, even as she smiled. He was fighting the waves of nausea and pain as he collapsed. His last thoughts as she bent over him, as the blackness took him was that she wasn't even human.

When he woke, he found himself in a vehicle. An SUV. She was sitting beside him, staring ahead at the windscreen. Clark discovered his hands were cuffed above him to a loop in the top of the vehicle. He allowed himself a brief snicker. Did they really think handcuffs could hold him? He tried pulling his hands down, but for some reason, he had no strength. He felt inexplicably weak, and an ache which started at the top of his shoulders and went down to his butt. His whole back hurt from the strain the rest of his body was in.

As Clark regained some of his senses, he realised there was something at his throat. Some kind of collar. He wondered if that was the source of his weakness. He had his answer when she spoke.

"It's laced with minute traces of Kryptonite," she said. "Not enough to hurt you, but enough to drain your strength."

He opened and closed his mouth experimentally, feeling the thing on his throat.

"Who are you?" he said. "Where are you taking me?"

She turned cold eyes to him. "To my master."

"Who is your master?" he asked, wondering what accent she had. She was obviously not from Kansas.

She regarded him dispassionately and Clark felt a shiver go up and down his spine. He was right. She wasn't human. Was she perhaps, like him, a traveller from a distant planet?

"He is ..." she blinked, "master. I belong to him and I must obey him." She frowned. Clark found it even more alarming that she didn't appear to know who 'master' was. She was obeying orders blindly, taking him to who knew where and he was helpless.

"But, tell me," Clark began, fear rising like nausea in his stomach and throat. "My friends will come looking for me," he said.

"They will not find you," she said.

"Who are you?" he asked again. She didn't answer.

He tried a different tack, softer this time. "What's your name?" he asked.

"My designation is three-eight-dash-zero-five-tee," she told him.

Clark felt a twinge of pity. This girl, whatever she was, was nothing more than a number. Perhaps she was some kind of robot, created just to do her master's bidding. To carry out his orders without question. A foot soldier, dispensable.

"What are you?"

"I'm a pretender," she said.

"What's a pretender?" he asked.

Suddenly the man in the front passenger seat turned around, gun in hand.

"No more questions, alien." He spat in distaste. "If I hear one more peep out of you, I will knock you into the middle of next week. You got that you freak?" His eyes flicked over to the woman. "That goes the same for you, Pretender. Your orders were to retrieve the alien. That is it. You are not to answer any more questions. You will speak when you are spoken to by me, but no-one else."

"I obey my master, not you," she said with that odd tone that Clark found so alarming.

"Well consider that a direct order from your master," he sneered. "Believe me, you are not indispensable. I could blow your fucking brains out right now."

"I believe Master would not be too impressed if you destroyed an asset of his without his permission," she said.

Clark almost laughed at the expressions on their faces. She might seem unemotional, but she had made a damn good point. But he sobered quickly as he understood the import of her words. She was an 'asset' – nothing more than a tool to be used. If he was ever going to get out of this, he would need to convince her that this was wrong. Slavery was outlawed years ago. He could not stand by and watch someone be used like this. To save himself, he figured he would need to save her.

Chapter Three

The balding man ran along the corridor.

"Oh my god," he said to himself. "She is not going to believe this."

He ignored the other people around him as he followed the corridor to her office. Ignored the stares as they saw him talking to himself.

She was sitting at her desk, one hand playing with the wedding band on her finger. She was tired, her head ached, and she hadn't slept in days. Not since that last fight. Damn it, she thought. She picked up her pen and chewed on the end, something she hadn't done in a while. She glanced at the phone, willing it to ring. Wanting it to be him. But the phone stayed silent.

She was in her forties now. Her black hair was greying. He hadn't minded it. Said it gave her character. She'd snickered at him. Of course that was in happier days. Before she'd screwed up everything. She remembered the fight as if it was yesterday. He never spent any time at home with her or the twins. He was always off helping the weak and abused. She used to admire that in him. That was the reason they'd established the foundation where she now worked, using stolen Centre funds. But now she just wanted him home. The twins were almost six years old and a handful. Of course, it didn't help that they'd both inherited their parents' brilliant minds. She'd told him that final night, that if he walked out that door, he needn't think about coming back.

Her office door opened and a man came in. For a moment she almost believed, but she turned away bitterly. He came eagerly to her desk. He was around the same age as her, maybe older, with a large bald patch on his head. His hair on each side was now grey.

"You will never guess what I found," he said, waving a sheaf of papers at her.

"I'm overwhelmed with curiosity," she said sarcastically. Tiredly.

"Well, I was surfing the 'net ..."

"As you do."

He went on as if she hadn't interrupted.

"You know, just following general leads, and I saw this."

She shook her head. He always got excited when he found a treasure on the net. But she didn't have the patience for it.

"Follow the bouncing ball Broots," she said, aware that she had said this one too many times.

"The Centre's in operation again," he said, looking at her triumphantly.

Now this did interest her.

"What do you mean the Centre's in operation again?"

"It's been bought by a multi-national out of Metropolis. They're using it for meteor research. But get this, there are still some Centre assets there."

"Meaning?" she said, looking directly at the analyst.

"There's a Pretender there."

She leaned forward.

"Who?"

Broots shook his head. "Don't know. But I bet Sydney does."

"So where is Dr Freud?"

"He's here."

The polished European-accented tone of the former psychiatrist sounded from the doorway. He was showing his age now – somewhere in his late sixties, early seventies. He'd retired from practice the day he'd left the Centre. Broots' attention was diverted to the older man.

"Broots," she snapped.

"Still no word from your husband?" Sydney asked.

She shook her head. She refused to cry, to show weakness in front of these two.

"Your relationship with him has always been tumultuous at best," the psychiatrist offered.

"Spare me the psycho-analysis, Dr Freud."

Sydney sighed and shook his head. He turned to Broots.

"What is it you found Broots?"

Broots quickly filled him in on what he'd seen on the Internet. Sydney looked at the file.

"I remember there was a satellite project in the Antipodes some years ago, but I thought they terminated it. They were taking embryos and implanting them in surrogate mothers, in an attempt to create another Pretender. One they could raise without humanity, without outside influence."

He looked up as he heard a gasp. She wasn't even listening to him, getting up, staring wide-eyed at the door. Neither Sydney nor Broots had heard it open again. They turned as she moved out from behind the desk, then ran to the door, flinging herself into her husband's arms.

"Oh, baby, I'm so sorry. God I missed you so much."

Jarod held his wife tight then let her slip out of his embrace.

"I missed you too, Angel," he said. She smiled up at him. No-one but her father and her husband ever called her that. To everyone else, she was just Parker.

Jarod looked at his former mentor.

"So you've discovered the Centre's back in operation too."

Parker looked at him.

"How did you know?"

"How did I always know what went on in the Centre?" he said with a grin.

"Angelo," she murmured.

When they'd left the Centre that last time seven years ago, Parker and Jarod had tried to get Angelo to come with them. But the Centre was the only place the empath had ever really known and with the way he picked up on emotions, he wouldn't have been able to cope with the outside world. Like the mythical Phantom of the Opera, he stayed in the shadows, negotiating the various tunnels in the bowels of the Centre. He was not considered a Centre asset, and when the corporation had been broken up, he was forgotten.

Jarod strode to Parker's desk, dumping a folder on the wooden surface. Parker sat back down and looked at it. They were photographs of a young man, aged in his early twenties, with wavy black hair.

"Who is he?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. But the Centre's new owner seems very interested in him, according to what Angelo says. He picked up on a lot of anger from the man."

Parker sifted through the photographs and looked at the one of the bald man. He'd clearly been badly injured at one point, reliant on a machine to keep him alive.

"What about the Pretender?" Sydney asked.

"All I know is that she was raised in isolation."

"In other words, not quite like you," Parker said, her eyes filling with tears of sympathy.

"No," Jarod answered shortly. "She doesn't experience emotions like I do. She has no humanity. I believe that's why she was hand-picked by Luthor."

"Luthor?"

"His name is Lex Luthor. He owns Luthorcorp in Metropolis. He disappeared about a year ago after a trip to the Arctic Circle. I have no idea why he was there, but I think there may be a connection to the other man."

"Do you know his name?" Parker said, studying the face of the young man.

Jarod shook his head.

Parker sighed, touching her upper lip with her finger.

"If this Pretender is involved, then he may be in a lot of danger."

"We need to return to the Centre, Parker. We need to stop this."

She looked up at her husband. The thought of returning to that place, the place that held so many horrific memories for both of them, gave her nightmares. But she agreed. They had to save the man. Save them both.

Chapter Four

Clark stayed silent through the rest of the journey, contemplating ways to escape. He had no strength, but he felt he did have some of his other powers, albeit severely diminished. The question was, how was he to use them? If he used his heat vision, there was a chance the girl next to him could be hurt as well. He didn't know what she was, but it seemed to him that she was just as much a prisoner as he was.

The girl was watching him, her expression a mixture of fascination and curiosity. She was studying him as if he was some lab rat. She was a pretender, she'd said. What was a pretender? Clark racked his brains, trying to think of what it could mean.

He glanced out the tinted windows of the SUV. They had reached a private airfield just outside of Metropolis. The vehicle was stopped just beside the gate where a jet was waiting. The man who had told him to shut up earlier got out of the vehicle and opened the back door, holding a gun on both of them. The girl ignored him, taking out a key and unlocking the handcuffs, nodding at Clark to get out. Clark knew there was nothing he could do. The man had a gun on him and with his vulnerability, he could very well be hurt. Whoever this girl's 'master' was, he wanted Clark alive, so Clark knew the man wouldn't shoot to kill but it would still hurt like hell.

The cuff was replaced on his wrist and then he was led to the plane. The girl followed behind, staring straight ahead. Clark frowned as he glanced behind him, seeing that odd blank expression on her pretty face. There was no fear at all in her, no emotion. He couldn't tell what she was thinking.

They got on the plane. The driver sat up the front, while the other sat at the back. Clark was made to sit in the middle with the girl. Calmly, she did up his seat belt, ignoring his pleading look. Then she brought a small silver box out from a compartment. Clark watched, trepidation growing in him as she opened the box and he saw a hypodermic needle. He swallowed, as much as he could with the tight collar around his throat. He'd already tried to get the damn thing off, but it was made of some kind of metal and there was no way he could break it. Not weakened as he was. And he couldn't struggle with it and not be seen.

The girl took a bottle out of the case and held it upside down, inserting the syringe. Clark's eyes widened as he saw green liquid dripping into the syringe. She put the bottle down, then turned to him, pushing his head down to the right. He tried struggling.

"No," he protested. "Don't."

He felt the prick of the needle in his skin just below the collar. Immediately the area began to sting, then burn. He put his hands up to his neck, fighting the dizziness, feeling his body begin to float as his sight began to blur. He felt the ache again and knew there was Kryptonite in the drug. He was going down, down into darkness, unable to fight it anymore.

Harry smirked at the girl who sat back impassively as the plane taxied along the runway, speeding up, before lifting smoothly into the air.

"Well, now that the freak's out," he said, taking off his seatbelt. "Time to have a little fun."

Harry liked the look of this girl, despite the fact that she was as much a freak as the alien. The odd blankness of her expression, the impassive way she had captured the man bugged him. But not enough that he didn't want her. He wondered if she had done anything other than be a tool for those that had owned the Centre before. He pictured her under him, wondering if she would make any noise, or whether she would be the same during the act.

She watched as he walked over to her. She knew his intentions. His lust was clearly written on his face. She knew about sex – had been well-educated in reproduction. It was a part of her training, although she had never done it herself. Pretenders were meant to study, to create simulations, scenarios, based on the information they were given, to predict outcomes. Not to participate. Harry didn't know that of course. He didn't know that she had watched him closely. Seen the way he was aroused by her. It mattered little. Master would not be pleased at this man's behaviour.

Her eyes looked at him steadily as he leaned over her, going for the kill. She felt his hand on her breast, but did not fight him. She wasn't bred to fight. She was bred to obey. And she would obey Master; no-one else. Harry could do what he wanted to her, but he would be severely punished for it. As his lips descended on hers they heard a voice behind them.

"Not planning on playing with my pet now, are you?"

The cold voice of her Master brought them both to awareness. She glanced over to where a small screen had dropped down. He was smirking. She looked at him submissively, then looked down, showing appropriate respect for her Master. He had taken to calling her his pet before he'd sent her on the mission.

Harry stood up, looking around at his employer.

"Sir, I ..." he stammered.

"Return to your seat. You will be dealt with later."

He smiled at the girl.

"You have done well, my pet. I am very pleased with you."

She didn't answer. He didn't expect one.

"Report to me as soon as you arrive in Blue Cove," he said. "The men can bring Kent in. How long will he be out?"

"A few hours, Master."

"Excellent."

Lex smirked as he switched off the microphone, keeping the monitor on. He could see Clark asleep in the seat beside his pet. She was good. Better than good. She had taken him without a fight. He might have got the idea from his father for the method of capturing the alien that had once been his friend, but she had designed the modifications which allowed the tazer to hit him with enough juice to knock him out instantly. Just as she'd developed the drug that kept him asleep.

He was angry that the man he'd employed to do all the heavy work had seen fit to try and claim the girl as his. The paperwork from the Centre told him that she had never been allowed to engage in such activity. Sex might encourage attachment, or emotion, and she had been bred as a Pretender. To predict the outcome of certain situations. The one flaw in keeping her as isolated as she had been was that she had no humanity of her own. Objectivity was one thing, but by not allowing her to behave as a human should, she could not accurately predict human behaviour. That was the one variable that had always been missing in the pretends he had seen from the Centre tapes. Unlike her elder pretender. Now he had been good.

Lex had seen the digital simulation archives, otherwise known as DSAs in which the other pretender, Jarod, had performed the simulations. The Centre had exploited them, sold them to criminal organisations, among others. Lex knew that was why Jarod had escaped; when he'd discovered what the Centre had done with his work. It served them right that Jarod's escape had been the nail in the coffin of the corporation. It might have taken years, but it had happened, leaving the way open for him to use the Centre's research for his own purposes.

He would love to get his hands on the original Pretender. Between them, Jarod and the girl could work miracles. It was the second part of his plans. First, he thought, there was Clark. He would take what he wanted from the alien, then destroy him, the same way Clark had destroyed him.

Chapter Five of Eighteen

Jarod squeezed his wife's hand tightly. He knew she didn't want to go back. Hell, he didn't either. It had taken years for the nightmares to stop, and only after extensive therapy sessions with Sydney. But if this girl was everything that he had been, he had a responsibility to help her. They sat together on the sofa in her office, not talking, just being together, having sent Broots and Sydney to see what they could dig up on Luthor and his Pretender.

Several hours later, Jarod walked along the corridor of the foundation, opening the door of the computer lab. Broots was hard at work, trying to hack into Luthorcorp files. Jarod assumed that when Luthor had bought the Centre and its assets, he had acquired all the files too. But getting through the various firewalls and security was proving a mission. Every time Broots thought he was getting close he was locked out. Jarod had used his own gifts to help, but it hadn't been easy.

"Anything?" he asked.

Absorbed in his work, Broots hadn't heard Jarod come in.

"Oh god," he said, jumping nervously.

Jarod shook his head, snickering. Six years of working together and Broots still got jumpy around him. He'd always been that way. Even the time when Jarod had helped him clear his name after the staff in the annex had been killed, he had continued being jumpy.

"Don't you know not to sneak up on people like that," Broots said.

"Apologies," Jarod said smoothly. "At least it wasn't Parker."

"Yeah, I know," Broots said snickering nervously. "She'd have my, er ..."

"Your what?"

Jarod looked at his wife, laughter in his eyes. Her own twinkled merrily back at him. They had just spent the last two hours having hot make-up sex in her office. He hated it when they fought, but loved the sex when they made up.

Broots looked at the two of them and knew exactly what they'd been up to. When they'd wired up this place, Parker and Jarod had been vehemently against security cameras everywhere, especially in Parker's office. Sydney had suggested it might have been because Jarod's every move was recorded when he grew up. Broots laughingly suggested it was so Jarod and Parker could make hot monkey love. That had earned him a cuff on each ear, one from Jarod and the other from Parker – which shocked the hell out of him. He hadn't been aware of them behind him.

The relationship between the two hadn't been easy. As Sydney had suggested, it was tumultuous. Five years of chasing him had made Parker cynical towards Jarod's intentions. But since the island, working together to uncover the connections between Jarod's family and the Parkers, it had drawn the two closer together. Parker's demotion at the Centre by the Triumvirate had made it easier for her to delve into her own past and as the couple had drawn closer together, she had helped Jarod find his own.

Parker looked lovingly at her husband, remembering how they'd first got together after the island. He had snuck into her house and she'd pulled a gun on him. But she'd never really been inclined to shoot him. He'd just grabbed the gun, made her drop it, then proceeded to make love to her.

Afraid that her twin, Lyle, would discover the relationship, Parker had let Jarod persuade her to run with him. They had gone underground for a year, not even daring to contact Sydney or Broots, gathering their resources together to try and take down the Centre.

The discovery that she was pregnant had led to Jarod proposing. Parker had accepted, by then hopelessly in love with her childhood playmate. She and Jarod had found a way back into the Centre, where they'd dug up what files they could, before persuading Sydney and Broots to defect as well. Only Angelo had chosen to stay behind, despite Jarod's assurances that they would get him the help he needed. In a way, Angelo's choice was an immense help, as he was able to keep them abreast of what the Centre was up to.

They stood and watched, linking arms, as Broots ran through the latest bits of data. He did his best to ignore them, although it wasn't easy. Parker had always intimidated him, and Jarod, with his Pretender skills, was just plain scary. Never mind that they had been sort of friends since defecting from that hell on Earth. Jarod and Parker had offered him a job as head of his own computer lab, but really he was happier without the responsibility.

"Oh, oh," Broots said excitedly. He had just managed to break through into the Luthorcorp mainframe. His fingers worked quickly over the keyboard. Jarod grabbed a chair and sat down reading quickly through the information Broots was saving frantically, knowing they'd have a limited amount of time before the security of the server locked them out again.

What they found proved Sydney was right. The Centre had a satellite Pretender project in a small country in the southern hemisphere. Jarod had never been to New Zealand, but he had known of the Centre installation in the southern end of the North Island. A journalist had once discovered the installation, but had never really uncovered the truth about it, claiming it was a spy satellite station run by the CIA. The government spy agency might have sanctioned it, helped fund it, but it had been run entirely by the Centre.

There had, of course, been other Pretenders. But they had lacked the same talents as Jarod. This woman, who had been born sometime in the late seventies, had his talents, and more. She had no idea she was being exploited.

Broots stared as he read.

"Oh my god," he said. "It says here the embryos came from NuGenesis."

NuGenesis, Jarod thought with a sick feeling. The Centre run fertility and adoption agency where his parents had gone in order to get pregnant. With him. It wasn't the only time that place had used his parents. After all, they'd used his mother's eggs to create a clone. Successfully. They'd used his father's seed to impregnate Catherine Parker, creating the child that became his half-brother. And Parker's. It shouldn't surprise him in the least that NuGenesis had once again reared its ugly head.

"Does it say who?" he said, squinting at the screen. His eyes were getting bad. He was going to need glasses soon.

"Let me look."

Suddenly, the terminal alarm buzzed and the screen lit up with 'Unauthorized Access'. Broots terminated the connection.

"Shit!" Jarod said. His expletive earned him a sharp look from his wife. She didn't approve of him swearing, especially when there was a chance his children would be around. He sent her a quick apologetic look.

An hour later, they were all sitting at the conference table. Parker, Jarod, Sydney, Broots, JJ – the clone, who had chosen that nickname rather than be called Jarod Junior, Major Charles and Margaret, who was really only there to keep the children occupied. Catherine and Kyle were almost six and even a handful for their grandmother. Jarod adored his children, but his wife was right. He didn't spend enough time with them, more occupied by the work of the foundation. Now they were getting spoiled and needed a firmer hand from their father.

He watched them for a moment, playing happily with the building set he'd given them. It was similar to the one he'd been given when he was four and had been kidnapped by Centre operatives. He'd later learned it was Sydney's brother Jacob and Mr Fenigor who'd taken him from his family.

Parker coughed and he looked up. They were waiting expectantly.

"Right. Here's what we do know. The Centre is back in business, albeit under the Luthorcorp banner. We know that Lex Luthor has been experimenting with these strange meteor rocks for years. He is now using the Blue Cove facility for that purpose. We also know that Luthorcorp purchased a number of Centre assets." He touched a key on the laptop and a photograph came up on the screen behind him. It was the Pretender.

"She's one of those assets. We've ascertained that she is a Pretender, part of the satellite project that Sydney first mentioned. She's been raised in isolation. We believe she was one of many frozen embryos sourced from NuGenesis."

"Like me?" JJ asked.

Jarod looked at the clone, every inch a copy of himself. He looked exactly like him when he was in his twenties. But their personalities had diverged years ago.

"No," Jarod said. "She's not a clone. When they created you, they took my DNA so Mom's egg wouldn't reject the implantation. We think she was a full embryo."

"Any idea whose embryos?" Major Charles asked.

"No, Dad. We'd need a DNA test to find out. We couldn't get far enough into the files for that."

Jarod touched the keys again and another image came up on the screen. The young man.

"His name is Clark Kent. We dug up some old newspaper files from a few years ago. This is from the Smallville Ledger." It was a story on him finding the Kawatche caves and being involved in protest action against Luthorcorp.

"Smallville?" Sydney asked,

"Kansas. His mother owns a farm there. His father died a while back. We tried calling, but there was no answer. So we're assuming that he's been taken already. Which means he's at the Centre."

Jarod looked at JJ.

"Can you go to Smallville and see what you can dig up on Kent?"

"You mean, why this Luthor guy wants him? Sure."

"Good. Parker and I will go to Delaware. Angelo will meet us in the Centre."

"What are you going to do about Luthor?" Major Charles asked. "If he's dangerous ..."

"We'll deal with it Dad," Parker said quietly. It was the first time she'd spoken since the start of the meeting and the anxiety showed clearly on her face. "We'll find a way."

Chapter Six

Clark woke with a feeling of disorientation. He was flat on his back somewhere. He could feel a firm mattress beneath him, so that must mean he was on a bed. As his vision cleared, he could see that he was in a dark room. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The room was tiny. A ten by six cell. Barely enough room to move for someone of his height and frame.

He shifted his hand, trying to bring it up to his face. There was a clink of metal and he realised both his wrists were enclosed in metal cuffs. As were his legs. He was unable to move at all. Between the Kryptonite collar and the drug she'd given him, he was helpless!

Clark glanced down, realising that he'd been stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers.

"Well at least I'm not naked," he told himself wryly.

Lying here, alone in the darkness, Clark found himself with time to think. His parents had always warned him about showing his powers. Now he was the Red and Blue Blur in Metropolis. J'onn had also warned him about revealing himself. Humans in some way were a paranoid culture. One person could accept it, sure. But collectively? Not a chance in hell.

Was it some government agency that had him? Was the girl some kind of agent? He still didn't know what she meant by being a pretender. And there was also that odd feeling that she was being used. The only other answer was Lex. He knew Clark's secret. But Lex was dead. He'd been killed in an explosion. Hadn't he?

Lex looked at his at pet, an expression of satisfaction on his face. She had done everything those Centre fools had promised. No questions, no complaints. She had followed orders to the letter. Take Kent without bloodshed, he'd told her. She had. Now she stood quietly at ease, awaiting new orders. Really, it was incredible just how easily he could control her.

They had been back an hour. He had enjoyed watching as Harry came in with his pet, wondering what punishment Lex had in store. He didn't like Harry. He didn't like the people who worked for him taking liberties with his property. The woman had taken her place in the sim lab, not even flinching when Lex ordered his other man to shoot Harry.

"Please, no," Harry had begged. "Sir, I'm sorry. I didn't ..." His pleas fell on deaf ears. Lex watched with an evil smirk as the man fell to the ground, a bullet in his head. Messy, but effective. He'd then turned to the gunman.

"Let that be a lesson," he smirked. "You are not paid to think, you are paid to obey."

"Yes sir," the man said, his face white. "What do you want me to do with the alien, sir?"

"Take him to sub-level ten. There is a room prepared for him."

Now Clark was in a cell, weakened by Kryptonite. Strapped down. Helpless. Lex watched on the infra-red monitor. He could see that Clark was awake and wondering where he was and who had him. Lex wasn't ready to reveal himself yet. But when he did, Clark would pay. And pay dearly.

With the alien in his grasp, Lex had time to work on another project. Ignoring the girl, he sent his chair running smoothly along the floor and pressed a few keys on a keyboard. Minutes later, the door to the sim lab slid open.

"You wanted to see me? Sir?" That last one was added reluctantly, sarcastically. His newest employee was a psycho. He'd heard rumours about the thumbless man, a member of the highest echelon in the Centre. Rumours of murder, rape, extortion, compounded with insanity. When he'd bought the Centre, he'd insisted that the older man stay on. He knew about the Pretender project. Which was why Lex wanted him.

"Sit down, Mr Lyle," Lex ordered.

The look on the man's deceptively youthful face suggested he wanted to refuse. But a glance in the corner at his pet and she came forward, forcing Lyle to sit. Lex looked at her with a quick smile and she retreated into the corner, standing once again at ease.

Lyle glanced at her, then back at Luthor.

"You certainly keep her on a tight leash," he remarked.

"Yes. I do," Lex smirked.

"So you got what you wanted then? Sir," he added, without a trace of reverence.

Lex's face was a cold mask. Even Lyle, who had never feared anyone, felt a shiver of fear run down his spine.

"I did. Now I need something from you. Tell me about the Pretender." He saw Lyle glance over at his Pretender. "Not her. The other one. The original."

"Jarod? It's been seven years since I last saw him. He's probably dead."

"Somehow, I doubt that. Tell me everything."

She listened as Lyle talked, telling Master everything he knew about the Pretender, about Jarod. Absorbing the information. The two men ignored her as if she didn't exist, but that was fine by her. She was interested in hearing this. Interested to know about him. He had been something of a legend where she had grown up. Something to aspire to.

"Jarod was a gifted child. He was one of a number of children tested at NuGenesis, a fertility clinic. The Centre retrieved him from his parents when he was four years old. He was brought here, raised by a psychiatrist, and was put to work running simulations."

"Yes, I know about those."

"Thirteen years ago, there was an ... incident. Jarod took it personally and he ran away. For five years, he went around the country, wreaking his own unique brand of vengeance on people who had abused those too weak to defend themselves. When he finally disappeared, he stole millions of Centre funds."

"I believe your sister was the one assigned to find him. Where is she now?"

"No idea," Lyle said. "Hopefully dead."

Lex snickered. "You take sibling rivalry to a whole new level," he smirked.

"My sister and I didn't always see things from the same perspective," Lyle said.

"Why this Jarod? What was so special about him?"

"Other than the fact he was a genius? Jarod had the power of the Centre in his hands. He could have been anything he wanted to be, and he could have changed the world if he wanted to."

"He was that brilliant?"

"Yes."

"Now tell me what's so special about my Pretender."

Lyle glanced over in the corner, but the girl's face was just as emotionless and impassive as before.

"She's Jarod's sister. They both have the same blood, the same ... unique gift. Even his younger brother wasn't nearly as good as her."

"Is this why they were kept apart?"

"I don't really know, sir. What I do know is that they thought by engineering her birth in the Centre, they thought they could control her better than Jarod. He was raised for four years by his parents. He had some experiences of the world, and retained some memories of his childhood. That became a problem later on."

Had they been looking in her direction, they would have seen a change in her demeanour. She blinked rapidly several times, then recovered her composure.

Chapter Seven

JJ looked around the farmhouse. It was clear that Clark Kent was gone. Judging from the looks of things, the retrieval had gone off without a fight. He looked at the pictures on the wall. They looked like a happy family. Mother, father, Clark. There were other photographs too. One was of a dark-haired girl with almond-shaped eyes. Very pretty. A blonde girl with a toothy smile. JJ took the picture off the wall, wondering who she was. The other girl had a classic beauty, but the blonde girl had a beauty all of her own.

He sighed and continued looking around. There were the usual childhood pictures gathered around. There was nothing that could tell him what was so special about Clark Kent. He was so absorbed in his work he didn't hear the car pull up.

However, he did hear the screen door slam. JJ stared at the tall blonde man.

"Whatever you've come here for, there's nothing worth stealing here man," the blonde guy said.

JJ studied the man silently. He could tell from the way the man entered the room that he was confident, cocky even. He had a presence about him that even Jarod would be impressed with. A commanding kind of presence.

"Hands up and turn around slowly."

JJ watched as the man in front of him realised they weren't alone. He swallowed as he heard the gun being cocked. But that was the only sign of fear. The blonde man turned around and looked at Major Charles. JJ frowned, shouting a warning just as the other man moved.

"Dad, look out."

Oliver quickly grabbed the gun in the old man's hands, aiming a kick at his wrist to make him release his grip on the revolver. Despite the old man's apparent age, he was just as quick to respond, coming back with a punch which Ollie quickly deflected. The fight was over as soon as it began. Oliver gripped the revolver in his hand and pointed it at the two men.

"Whoever you are you better start talking or I start shooting," he said, only slightly breathless. He gestured with the gun at the old man. "Starting with you old man."

JJ looked at his father. They both moved as the other man suggested. Out to the driveway.

Oliver scowled at them.

"Talk."

"We came looking for something on Clark Kent," Major Charles said.

"How do you know Clark Kent?"

"We don't," JJ interjected. "But we work for a foundation that helps people in need."

"Clark doesn't need any help."

"We believe he's been kidnapped," Major Charles said. "By Lex Luthor."

Oliver frowned at them, his brown eyes widening a little.

"That's impossible," he said. "Lex is dead."

"Not according to our sources," JJ said.

Oliver blinked. "Go on. I'm listening."

JJ sighed. "It would go a lot better if you weren't waving a gun at us," he said.

Oliver grinned suddenly, lowering the gun. "Yeah, it would, wouldn't it? All right, I'm going to trust you, but try anything funny and you'll find I have a lot of tricks up my sleeve."

"I noticed," Major Charles said, rubbing his bruised wrist.

"Who are you?" JJ asked.

"Oliver Queen. Clark's a friend of mine."

Charles realised exactly who he was talking to. Oliver Queen was a billionaire and responsible for a lot of philanthropic projects. He lived by the same principles as the foundation.

They quickly introduced themselves.

"How long is it since you've heard from Clark?" JJ asked.

"Thirty-six hours. But it's not unusual."

"Why not?" Charles asked.

Oliver looked at him steadily, but shook his head. "It's none of your business. What makes you think he's been kidnapped?"

Major Charles and JJ exchanged looks. This guy could help them figure out what was so special about Clark. It would help them understand why Lex Luthor was so interested in him. JJ took a breath.

"There's a place in Delaware. It's called the Centre."

Oliver nodded, interested.

"Go on."

"For years it specialised in scientific research using people with high intelligence. Exploited them. My son was one of those people."

Oliver looked at JJ, then back at Charles.

"No," Charles continued. "JJ is another part of the story. My older son's name is Jarod. He is on his way now to try to rescue your friend."

"Well, tell me where this place is. I can get a team there."

"It's not that simple. Lex Luthor will try to reacquire Clark. We need to make sure that it cannot happen again."

"What do you think Luthor's going to do to him?"

"That's what we need you to tell us. Who is Clark Kent?"

Oliver shook his head at the major. "Sorry. Can't tell you that."

JJ was staring intensely at him. Oliver began to feel very uncomfortable under that stare, as if he was being stripped naked.

"You're more than just a billionaire playboy," JJ said. "There's something ..." He frowned. "You're hiding something. Not just Clark, but you. Something about you."

Oliver fidgeted under the younger man's stare. Now he knew why Clark was so afraid of being found out. It felt like he was now the lab rat.

The ringing of a cellphone immediately cut off JJ's stare. Charles pulled it out of his pocket.

"Sydney? Yeah, we're still in Smallville. No, a friend of Kent's. Any luck with ... Oh, really?"

He switched off the phone and came back to them, looking at Oliver.

"What the hell is Kryptonite? And what does Luthor plan to do with it?"

Oliver stared at the old man, his heart thumping. He broke out in a cold sweat.

"He's planning to kill him," he said.

Chapter Eight

Clark was screaming. The pain was horrific, paralysing him. The contents of his stomach had already emptied on the floor of the cage. For that was what it was. A cage. The bars were made of some kind of metal alloy with enough Kryptonite to kill him if the men out there so chose.

Suddenly the pain stopped and Clark collapsed on the floor, panting heavily. It gave him a brief respite, allowing his mind to clear. Since the early morning, when he'd been brought here under armed guard, they'd been testing his limits with the green Kryptonite. Putting him in this huge cage, with men watching him like a trapped animal.

He'd seen something like this before. Over a year ago. When Lionel ... God, no, he thought.

Coughing, he stood weakly, his limbs heavy. They'd turned down the strength of the Kryptonite, enabling him to stand but he was so weak he would not have been able to break out.

"I know it's you Luthor," he yelled, not surprised to find his voice a little hoarse. "Show yourself you son of a bitch."

"Now is that any way to greet an old friend, Clark? Or maybe I should call you Kal-El."

The cynical voice grew closer and Clark saw what looked like a wheelchair with a machine attached to it. The bald man was sitting in the chair. Clark had known that Lex had been badly injured in the avalanche. Almost killed. He was now dependent on the machine to survive. It was not a pretty sight.

Clark glared at the other man, who was smirking. "How do you like your new home, Clark?"

"I've seen better," he said.

"Aw, now I'm offended. After I went to so much trouble with the accommodations."

"You're a fucking lousy host Lex."

"Now that hurts."

"Drop dead you son of a bitch."

Lex smirked again. "You first, alien." He nodded to one of the men who turned up the exposure. Clark screamed again and fell to the floor. The pain was like an ongoing electric shock. He writhed on the concrete floor, his lungs burning, bile in his throat, his entire body convulsing. Through blurred vision he saw Lex's smile. The man had lost it.

Lex nodded again and the Kryptonite was cut off. Clark wiped away tears.

"You're fucking insane," he said, still on his back on the floor. "You're a psychopath."

"I'm what you made me," Lex sneered. "All your fucking secrets, all those years of lying to me. You could have trusted me Clark. You could have told me the truth."

"Given what you've been up to the last few years, I think I was right not to trust you," he said, struggling to a sitting position. "Who knew what you would have done to me if you'd known. All your fucking experiments."

Lex spoke at the same time.

"You don't have the right to sit there and judge me, you freak. I did it to save the world from people like you."

Clark snorted.

"Save the world? You really do have delusions of grandeur."

Lex turned away from him.

"Enjoy your stay Clark. While you're still alive to see it."

Clark saw him nod at the man with his hand on the lever.

"So that's it?" Clark said, before the pain started again. "You're just going to kill me? Don't you want to know everything?"

"I know all I need to know," Lex said over his shoulder.

"Well I don't," Clark said. "I saw the van explode. I saw you in it. I watched you die."

Lex turned and sneered at him. "You saw what you wanted to see," he said. "Did it give you satisfaction, Clark, to think that I was dead? Were you happy?"

"I never wanted you dead, Lex," Clark told him softly.

Lex moved the chair closer to the cage, staring up at him. His expression was almost soft. Clark looked down at him. For a moment he thought Lex was going to reach up to him. Then Lex waved his hand and once again, Clark was on the floor in agony. Lex continued to watch coldly, a small smile playing about his face. He turned and went out.

"Lex," Clark moaned, his body shaking. His ears were ringing and blood began pouring out of his nose. He blacked out, but not before he saw the Pretender, standing quietly beside Lex. For a moment, he thought she shared his pain. She turned and walked out behind Lex.

She'd watched the verbal battle between the two men, then Lex ordering them to turn the Kryptonite on one more time. A single tear rolled down her cheek but she didn't brush it away.

Chapter Nine

"Parker, it's for your own good. Angelo says Lyle's still there."

"Jarod, we've done this together for six years."

"And you know the plan. I don't want them using you against me."

"But ..."

He silenced her with a kiss. "I love you," he said. He turned to leave the motel room. "Stay. You know I need you to run the command post. Who else is going to keep scaring the shit out of Broots?" That last with a smile.

"Honey," she warned.

"What? The kids aren't here." He left.

Parker paced the room. Jarod had never left her out of the attack before. Even those five years when she'd been chasing him, he'd lived to torment her. But he had never left her out of things deliberately. All she could do now was wait to hear from the others. But it didn't mean she was going to completely be the obedient wife. Plan be damned. Her place was with her husband, working alongside him. After all, she'd chased him all those years. Played the games in the twisted soap opera that had been their lives before they'd both escaped for good. No way was she going to let herself be left out of the finish.

JJ and his father unrolled the schematics on the table in Oliver's penthouse. JJ pointed out the room that was so clear in his memory, although it had been more than ten years.

"That's the sim lab."

"What's a sim lab?" Oliver asked.

"It's where they make you do simulations."

Oliver's face still showed a puzzled frown.

"Okay," JJ thought, "let me try to explain this in another way. Say there's this whole scenario of a fireman in a burning building. He can't get out. He's trapped. You're a pretender. You have to put yourself in the mind of that fireman. They use all sorts of stimuli in the sim lab to make it seem like you're actually there. You have to solve the problem."

"And your brother had to do this kind of thing every day?"

JJ nodded.

"So what's Luthor's interest in all of this?"

"You said he was interested in building some kind of army, right? Well, what if you could train an army with the knowledge to anticipate problems before they arise. That's what the pretender programme was for. It's what Jarod was always good at. He's always been several steps ahead of everyone else."

"It's not the only research the Centre was involved in," Major Charles reminded the clone.

He nodded and looked at Oliver.

"The Centre was also doing cloning."

"I know for a fact that Luthor perfected that technique years ago. His father started it. They were using Kryptonite to accelerate cell growth."

"Yeah, well the Centre perfected it at least twenty years before that."

"How do you know?" Oliver said, looking at the younger man.

"Because I'm a clone. They took my mother's egg and used Jarod's DNA. I was grown in a lab and incubated in a surrogate mother."

"My god. You think Luthor knows this?"\

"If he was buying up Centre assets, it's more than likely," Charles said.

"Wait, wait wait, how long ago did the Centre start selling off its assets?" Oliver asked.

"At least two years ago."

"Shit!"

"What?"

"You don't get this. I watched Luthor die in an explosion that I set up. I was there. I saw it happen. At least, I thought it was Luthor. He must have been using a clone. God, he must have got the idea from Lana."

"Who's Lana?" JJ asked.

"She used to be Clark's girlfriend, then she married Luthor." He rolled his eyes. "Trust me. You wouldn't need to watch soap operas around Clark. His whole life is a damned soap opera."

"I've been watching one. Days of our Lives. It's very good," JJ smirked.

"Peachy," Oliver commented. "Anyway, when Lana left Luthor, she used a clone to fake her death. Luthor must have used the Centre research to perfect the technique."

Major Charles nodded. There was still one problem. What did this have to do with Clark?

"You really think Luthor is going to kill Clark Kent?"

Oliver ran a hand over his spiky blonde hair.

"If he's using Kryptonite?. More than likely. See, Clark's not like us. He, er, has these abilities and he's kind of allergic to these green meteor rocks. That's the Kryptonite."

"Then we don't have much time." Charles said.

Oliver shook his head.

"I doubt whether Luthor will kill him right away. He's always been obsessed with Clark's abilities. He probably wants to know how he can harness them for himself." He looked at the two men. "But it doesn't mean he can't have fun torturing him with it. Luthor's sadistic like that. Especially now."

"Why? What do you mean?" JJ asked.

"Luthor was badly injured last year. From what I've heard from this guy who was working for him, he's lost his marbles. Granted, he didn't have all of them to begin with ..."

Major Charles and JJ looked at Oliver. Luthor sounded almost like someone else they knew. They shivered violently at the thought.

Chapter Ten

"Come here, my pet," Lex said. She was watching Clark on the monitors. He'd sent her to return him to his cell, clean him up and secure him for the night. She was the only one capable of doing so.

She got up from her seat and came to stand beside him.

"Did you find it disturbing? What I did to Clark?"

"No Master."

"Are you lying to me?"

"Master?"

His hand gripped hers tightly, bruising, and she flinched.

"Never lie to your Master," he hissed. "Tell me the truth. Did it disturb you?"

"No."

"Did Clark see your reaction?"

"Yes Master."

"Do you think he believed you?"

"I don't know Master."

"I want him to believe you. I want you to continue pretending. Do you understand?"

"Yes Master."

Before Lex had gone into the lab, he had ordered her to show a reaction, to show some kind of emotion. To let Clark think that he had an ally within the Centre. He'd seen the way Clark had first looked at her, tried to talk to her, on the way to the cage. He wanted to play on that. Her mission was to find out everything she could about Clark's powers.

Clark wasn't completely dumb. But he was trusting. And Lex was counting on that. He was banking on the thought that Clark hadn't lost his ability to see the good in people. She was a Pretender. She could certainly fool someone like Clark Kent.

Clark woke in his cell. Someone had come along and cleaned him up while he was unconscious. The bleeding was stopped, but his head was pounding. The collar, which had been taken off while he was in the cage, was back on.

He wondered if he had imagined things. The girl, no, woman, had looked at him with sympathy as he'd blacked out. Was it a trick? Or was she really feeling his pain?

The door opened and she came in, carrying a tray. The guard outside held the heavy door open, then shut it when she was inside. She put the tray down on the chair beside the bed, then unlocked one of his cuffs.

"Thank you," he said.

"Eat," she said softly. "You need your strength. Master has more tests for you."

"Why do you call him Master? He has a name. It's Lex Luthor."

"He asked to be called Master. I am his to command."

"You mean you're a slave," Clark answered darkly. He reached for the bowl on the tray and a spoon and began shovelling the food into his mouth. At least Lex was feeding him, so he couldn't be planning on killing him just yet. And he knew if he was going to escape he needed the food for strength. At least until he could figure a way to get his super strength back.

"I remember about slaves. Black people. Working in fields. They were beaten because they did not do as they were told."

"No. They were beaten because they were slaves. Because people saw them as different. Some people don't like that."

"Is that why Master hates you?" she asked. "Because of what you are?"

Clark blinked. It was an unusual question and unexpected. His first thought was suspicion. She was too friendly for someone who had been cold before. Too interested in him and what he thought.

She seemed to sense his hesitation.

"I'm not supposed to ask questions," she said, looking at him steadily. "I'm supposed to obey. But I studied you. I want to know what you are."

Clark finished eating and put the bowl down. She secured him, then picked up the tray and began walking toward the door.

"What's your name?" Clark asked suddenly. She turned and stared at him.

"My designation is three-eight-dash-zero-five-tee."

"No. Your name. Everyone has to have a name."

Her eyes seemed to flicker as she looked him over.

"I – don't ..."

He licked his lips thoughtfully.

"Well, when they bring in someone they can't identify in hospitals, they usually give them a name like John or Jane Doe. So, I'll call you Jane. Is that okay?"

A ghost of a smile played about her lips.

"Okay," she said. She tapped on the door and went out.

Lex smirked at the monitor. So he'd given her a name. He snickered. Let the games begin, he thought.

Chapter Eleven

Angelo watched from the safety of the vent. It was rusted shut so he couldn't get into the room.

"Pain," he said, touching his head. "Feels pain." He turned and walked as quietly away as he could, down the long tunnel and down the ladder into SL27. It had been blown up years ago, but it was still accessible. Angelo knew every inch of these tunnels.

He listened for the footsteps, waiting for them to get closer. Then he moved forward, looking wide-eyed at the light which shone directly into his face.

"Angelo," Jarod said in a joyful loud whisper.

"Jarod," the empath said. "Not much time. Parker with you?"

"I left her at the command post."

"Won't like that," he said in that stilted way of his.

"No," Jarod grinned. "She won't. But the general does like commanding her troops."

Angelo looked at him strangely. Jarod just grinned at him. "Private joke," he said. In the years they'd been together, Parker had often been the one to take command, especially in the bedroom. So Jarod had nicknamed her the general in their private moments together.

Angelo looked up at Jarod's hair.

"Got grey," he said.

"Yeah, try being a parent. You'd get grey too. Especially when it's twins." He sighed. "Double trouble."

He followed Angelo along the tunnel and up to the next sub-level.

"Where are they keeping him?"

"SL-10."

It was five floors below the sim lab where Jarod had worked on his own simulations.

"Is he okay?"

"Hurt. Bad."

"What about the girl?"

Angelo turned and looked at the tall Pretender. He beckoned to him, leading him down another tunnel.

"What is it?"

The empath grabbed a DSA from his stockpile and ran quickly to another area of the sub-level. Jarod followed, curious. Angelo played the disk and Jarod watched. It was a conversation between Luthor and Lyle.

"Now tell me what's so special about my Pretender."

Jarod saw Lyle glance over to somewhere else in the room and he guessed the other Pretender was there.

"She's Jarod's sister. They both have the same blood, the same ... unique gift. Even his younger brother wasn't nearly as good as her."

Stunned, Jarod looked at the other man.

"And she knows this?"

Angelo nodded vigorously.

"Damn. That might make the plan a little more complicated."

"What plan?"

"It's best you don't know Angelo."

"Careful Jarod. She's ...not ...like ...you."

"I know, my friend. I know."

Angelo touched his head. "Nothing," he whispered.

"That's because she doesn't know any better," Jarod told him. "It'll be okay."

He patted his old friend on the shoulder. "Time to go."

Still weak from the day before, Clark was half-dragged, half-carried to the sim lab. He expected to be thrown into the cage again, but this time he was strapped down on a metal table. The collar was once more removed, but the green Kryptonite was never far away. Just enough for him to be unable to recover his strength.

A technician approached with a hypodermic gun. Clark glanced at the substance. It was red. Somehow, Lex had got hold of red Kryptonite. He struggled against the metal straps but he was still too weak as the tech thrust his head to the side, exposing his neck, and injected the liquid. Immediately his body showed a reaction. Red fire crawled up his veins and his eyes glowed red for a few seconds.

Kal grinned madly at the technician, straining his muscles as if to try and break his bonds. The tech gasped at the sudden change in his demeanour.

"You should have killed me when you had the chance Luthor," he said calmly. "Because when I get out of these, I'm going to take such pleasure in killing you."

"Now that doesn't sound like the Clark I know," Luthor said through the speaker. Kal looked around, trying to figure out where Lex was hiding his miserable self.

"You can call me Kal," he smirked. "Come on Luthor, you coward. Show yourself."

"I'll stay where I am," Luthor said. "I wouldn't want to get infected."

Kal laughed, his muscles still bunching with the strain as he used his remaining strength against the bonds.

"You poor useless cripple. Guess the only way you can get your rocks off now is by watching someone else suffer. That it Luthor?"

"Unlike you, I suppose? Am I supposed to believe you get pleasure out of helping people? Or are you just so arrogant you think we poor primitive humans can't defend ourselves."

"Poor primitive humans? Maybe the rest of the people on this planet, but you stopped being human a long time ago. Like that girl. Your loyal pet. Yeah, I know that's what you call her. Is she even human or just some garbage you picked up along the way? Tell me, does she bark for you too? Wag her tail? Do you feed her off your plate or do you make her eat off the floor like any other dog?"

Silence. Either Lex was mulling it over or was choosing not to be baited. Kal didn't care.

"So go ahead. Ask me what you've been dying to know. Oh wait, I know. You wonder why I didn't tell you my secret?"

"You told me why. You didn't trust me."

"That's right. I didn't trust you. Because when it comes down to it, you're not worthy. You were nothing to me Lex. All those years of friendship were lies. The only reason you wanted my friendship was so you could study me. Well, you got what you wanted. Here I am. So come on. Study me. Do your worst. Going to give me a lobotomy too? A vivisection? Hell, yeah, that'll be fun. Open me up while I'm awake to enjoy it. Do one of those alien autopsy things on me. While I'm still alive. That how you want to torture me Lex? Is it?"

The taunting went on and on until the red K was absorbed into his system and finally sweated out. Lex watched as Clark changed from an arrogant young man into the farm kid he'd always known. 'Kal' would gladly have killed him. If he'd had the chance. Lex had already seen evidence of that. He glanced at his pet. She'd been watching the screen, impassive. He turned fully around and looked at her. She nodded, then went out.

Chapter Twelve

Parker was immediately suspicious when she heard the knocking on the door. She picked up her Smith &Wesson. It felt heavy in her hand. It had been a long time since she'd had to use a gun. With the twins around, she had always kept it locked up.

She left the chain on, then opened the door a crack.

"Hello sis."

She closed her eyes. Lyle. That psycho.

"Can I come in?"

Sighing, she closed the door, then let the chain off and opened it, pointing the gun at him.

"Twitch. And they'll be washing grey matter off the sidewalk."

"Nice to see you haven't changed," Lyle said. "I would have thought marriage and motherhood would have mellowed you."

"What would you know about it?"

"Look, I only came to warn you," Lyle said, stepping into the room. "I don't know what you and Jarod are planning, but it's too dangerous. Luthor wants to recapture Jarod."

Parker had known the Centre had wide influence, but she hadn't known just how far.

"You can trust me. We are blood," Lyle said.

"Right. And Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy were real."

"Fine. I deserve that. But I've known where you were for years. I just never told Raines. There is something to be said for family, after all. And that ghoul, well, he may have been our biological father but that doesn't make him family."

"Spare me the platitudes Lyle. Why are you really here?"

"I told you. To warn you."

Parker suddenly felt the urge to check the room for bugs. There had always been something about her brother that was off. And she didn't trust him one little bit. But she didn't move. Better for Lyle to think she didn't know anything.

"How long before you can get your team assembled?" Charles asked Oliver. JJ was busy packing equipment.

"I can have them here within 24 hours."

"We need to move now. Jarod will be waiting for us in Delaware."

"Fine. Guess it's just me then. My jet will be waiting on the tarmac as soon as we get there."

"Good. Stick to the plan."

"Are you sure Jarod knows what he's doing?"

"Positive," Charles said.

Jarod moved quickly along the corridor of SL10. Angelo was waiting in the tunnel. He glanced along the corridor to the cell where they were keeping Kent. There was a guard outside. And he heard voices within.

"Jane, you know what he's doing is wrong."

"He is my master. I have to obey him."

Clark's voice.

"No you don't. You have a mind of your own. You have choices."

'Jane' looked at Clark. He didn't understand. She had always been taught that the only time she was allowed to feel was when she was on a pretend. And it was never about her emotions. It was who she was pretending to be. It was always the way.

She rinsed the rag she had been using to wash the blood off his face. When they'd taken him out of his restraints in the lab, two of his guards had beaten him to a bloody pulp. He was sore, aching, but the way she was tending to him was soothing. He'd used the opportunity to try to talk to her.

Clark watched her face. He knew she was struggling with it. She'd been brainwashed, or something. He had to try to get through to her.

"Help me," he said.

She frowned.

"I can't," she said, in that odd accent of hers. She pronounced it like karnt instead of cant. It made him wonder what kind of place she had been raised in. So different from where he'd grown up.

"I must obey," she said.

"No one has the right to own another person," Clark said softly. "Not even someone like Lex."

"I don't understand. Why did you say all those things to him?"

"Which things?"

"Like what you said about me?"

Clark looked at her with sympathy, but it seemed like she was asking out of curiosity, not because it had affected her in some way.

"That wasn't me. When I'm on the red stuff it's like I'm a different person."

"So, there are other types that make you do different things?"

"Well so far I've only seen green and red. Oh, and there's blue, which makes me lose my powers, and I did find some silver once. That made me have all these crazy hallucinations."

"Oh." She seemed to lose interest in the Kryptonite after that. "You said some other stuff. About friendship."

"Lex and I were friends once."

"What happened?"

"Lex gets obsessed with things. He wanted to know stuff that I couldn't tell him."

"Couldn't?"

"People tend to get hurt when they know my secret. Sometimes it's best if they don't know. It protects them."

She nodded.

"Is there anyone else like you?"

Clark shook his head. "No. They're all gone."

"Gone? Where?"

"They're dead. My ... my planet blew up."

She blinked and Clark wondered if that had got to her. Had he somehow reached her? Found some spark of humanity inside her?

She sighed. "I'm sorry," she said. She glanced toward the door. "I should go. Master may require my services."

"What does he make you do anyway? Other than pretend to be my friend."

She didn't answer. She picked up the bowl of water and went to the door, tapping on it to be let out. Clark lay back against the mattress and sighed. Damn, he thought. He'd hoped he was getting through to her.

He now knew what a Pretender was. She'd obviously been trying to get into his head. To learn everything there was about him. He hadn't told her stuff that Lex didn't already know, or suspect. He knew Lex wanted to find a way to harness his powers. Or maybe leech them for himself. He wondered if that was why Lex had sent her.

He still didn't know how Lex had survived the explosion. Maybe it hadn't been Lex in the van after all. Clark had a horrible thought. What if the Lex inside the van had been a clone? It would certainly explain a lot.

Lex was waiting. She came in, still with that blank look on her face. But he had a feeling she had made a breakthrough.

"Well?"

"There may be a way to get his powers," she said.

"Excellent. I always knew you could get into that alien brain."

"He may be alien, master, but he still thinks like a human. He told me the reason he didn't tell you about him when you were friends was to protect you."

"Some protector," Lex snorted.

"He loved you," she said softly. "Master. And you loved him."

Lex turned and looked at her. "I didn't give you permission to get inside my head, 'Jane'!" he snarled, raising his hand. She flinched visibly, then stepped back, going into her corner and standing, awaiting more orders.

Lex turned back to the monitor, letting his anger dissipate. She was right. Whether she had done it without permission or not, she had seen a part of him that he'd tried to ignore for the past year or so. He'd loved Clark. Like a brother. No, more than that. But it didn't bear thinking about. That part of him was dead.

"Put him back in the cage," Lex ordered. "Then find out how to get his powers."

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and Sam came in.

"Sir, we have Jarod."

Lex grinned evilly.

"Bring him here. Immediately."

"Yes sir."

Parker continued holding the gun on her brother.

"You really think I'm going to believe you're here purely out of altruism? Do you think I'm a fool?"

"Hardly," Lyle said. "You did manage to capture Jarod."

"He's my husband."

"Precisely."

Really, Lyle's version of the world was so skewed it was insane.

Lyle walked toward the bathroom, glancing in, then turned toward her.

"See, I always knew there was something between you. All those phone calls. Secrets shared. All your missed opportunities. The reason you couldn't bring Jarod in was because you had feelings for him," he sneered.

"So where is my dear brother-in-law?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she sneered back.

"God, you were always beautiful when you were angry. I hope for your sake Jarod isn't in the Centre, because he's walking into a trap."

Parker looked at him, her expression startled.

"What do you mean?"

"Luthor's Pretender. She's already onto him. She knows he's coming."

"She's that good?"

"She is Jarod. Or at least the female version of him." Lyle looked at his sister. "Of course, it's a lot easier for her to read him. She is his sister."

Parker had been trying to school her features, to pretend she didn't care about Lyle's revelation. But at that, she paled.

"The embryos," she breathed.

"Were Margaret's. Batch number thirty-eight. Just one of hundreds they tested."

Parker put her gun in the waistband of her pants and went to the door.

"Parker, where are you going?"

She looked briefly at her brother.

"To find my husband."

"Parker, this is crazy," he said, going after her. "You can't just walk into the Centre after all this time and expect ..."

Parker shot her brother a withering stare, the same kind of stare she used to give Broots, and still did from time to time. It was the kind of look that had him reduced to a quivering mass of jelly as he would stutter out his news. But Lyle wasn't Broots. He wouldn't know the meaning of fear if it came and bit him on the ass. Although he did shut up.

Chapter Thirteen

Jarod had known he couldn't stand there and wait until she left. But he had to figure out how to get the young man out. He didn't know how good he was, what abilities he possessed that would have a place like the Centre interested in him. All Angelo had said was that Luthor had mentioned the world alien. Considering there had been rumours of alien autopsies back in the old days of the Centre, although Parker had laughed it off as some kind of sick joke, Jarod wasn't surprised at this.

He turned and went back down the corridor toward the ventilation tunnel. Suddenly, there was a click of a gun hammer being pulled back.

"Welcome home, Jarod," said the hoarse tones of Sam. Jarod looked at the older man. He'd been a sweeper back in the days when Parker had been leading the chase. Gulping, Jarod put his hands up, seeing that Sam was not alone.

"Greetings, Sam," he said.

Sam gestured with the gun.

"The boss would like to see you."

Jarod could almost imagine Sam rubbing his hands with glee, thinking of the kudos he would get from the Centre's new owner for capturing the elusive Pretender. Thirteen years and all it had taken was an alien. Jarod said nothing as he walked along the corridor, Sam and the other man's guns on him. One he could have fought. Two and it was suicide.

He let himself be led into the sim lab. Welcome home, he thought. The female Pretender looked at him, but said nothing. Jarod could now see the family resemblance. She almost seemed like a feminised version of himself. She hesitated on her way out the door, staring straight at him. He schooled his features, trying to mentally block her from his thoughts. If she was trained as well as he was, she would be able to read him. And he didn't want her knowing his plans. Not yet.

Jarod watched calmly as Luthor came forward.

"Well, well, so you're Jarod," he said. "I've heard a lot about your ... exploits," he sneered.

Before Jarod had left California, Sydney had suggested the Centre's new owner was mentally unstable. Looking at him now, able to read his body language, to delve into his mind, Jarod thought Sydney's assessment was an understatement. He wasn't just mentally unstable, he was a fucking lunatic!

"I hope I'm not too much of a disappointment," he said smoothly.

Luthor almost grinned.

"On the contrary. From what I've heard, you are the best of the best. The original Pretender. I look forward to testing that assessment myself."

"Don't think for one second I'm going to co-operate with you," Jarod said.

"Even for the life of your sister?"

Jarod looked at him in that cool way of his, not giving away any of his thoughts. Stay cool, calm and collected, that was his motto.

"Well considering she's nothing more than the result of a test tube experiment, I hardly need concern myself with your puppet."

"Now, that's cold," Luthor said. "But hardly surprising, I suppose."

Jarod blinked slowly, deliberately, not caring if Luthor thought he was weak for breaking the stare. He could think what he liked.

"I wonder, then," Luthor said, moving his wheelchair away, then turning and looking back at Jarod, "if you would feel the same about your wife."

Jarod's face paled. His eyes took on a glassy look.

"What are you talking about?" he said, his face taking on a hint of panic.

"Only that she's on her way here." Luthor grinned evilly. "You didn't think I had contingency plans, did you?" He glanced back toward the sim lab where he knew the other Pretender would be.

"Welcome back to the Centre, Jarod," he said.

"No," Jarod said quietly.

JJ was working at a table on one of Oliver's arrows.

"I still can't believe you're Green Arrow," Major Charles said to Oliver as they sat drinking juice smoothies.

"What can I say? It's a living." He was watching JJ work. "What is he doing?"

"Altering the arrow so you can get more speed out of it."

"But Kryptonite?"

"You said Luthor was injured. What if he was going to try to steal Clark's abilities? If he somehow does manage to get them, he will be a danger. The Kryptonite may be effective."

"Yeah, but still ..."

JJ looked up at him for a moment, then resumed his work. "If we had time, I could build new arrows for you. Ones that are faster and far more advanced."

"I already have a team for that."

A ghost of a smile played on JJ's face. "But you don't have a Pretender," he said.

Major Charles put down his smoothie, half-finished. He didn't look like he liked it. JJ picked up the glass and drank it in one gulp. His father made a face.

"Well at least it beats wheatgrass and tomato juice," JJ said.

"Wheat grass and tomato juice?" Oliver asked.

"That's what they used to feed us in the Centre. We weren't allowed things like junk food."

Major Charles laughed suddenly. Oliver looked at him.

"When Jarod first left the Centre, everything was new to him. He was like a kid at Christmas, only for him, it was Christmas every day. Things we take for granted, like ice cream on a hot summer's day, Sloppy Joes." He held up his hands. "He used to get these little Pez dispensers. God knew how he dealt with the sugar rush after his strict diet in the Centre, but he'd eat a lot of it. Until he had kids."

"Can't imagine living like that."

Charles shifted in his seat. "That's why we need to get your friend out of there. If Luthor has his way, Clark will most likely remain in the Centre, the subject of experiments."

"Fuck!" Oliver said.

Charles and JJ looked at him as if they wholeheartedly agreed with him.

Clark struggled against the two men holding him. He didn't want to go back in the cage. He craned his neck, trying to look at the woman following behind.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

She continued staring straight ahead as they tried to force him into the cage.

"Nnnnnooooo," he moaned, his hands gripping the bars next to the door. They threatened to break his fingers unless he broke the grip on the door, pulling them back until the pain was too much for him. They stuffed him in, taking the Kryptonite collar away. The low levels of Kryptonite were slowly being released into his body, poisoning him, taking away his strength. Clark had to try anyway. He tried to push through the door before they could close it, jamming his hand in the gap. They banged the door on his knuckles, drawing blood, and he yelled, jumping back.

"Next time, alien," the man hissed.

Clark glared at him, shaking his battered hand. He glanced back at the woman, who was standing there looking as if she didn't care. He'd tried. God knew, he'd tried to get through to her. Maybe she was unreachable.

"Please," he said. "You don't have to do this. You don't have to listen to him. You're not a slave. You're a human being."

"Quiet alien," the man roared.

He could see they were going to the machine to turn up the exposure levels.

"Help me," he begged. It was his last shot. He knew there would be no further chances to get through to her after this.

The pain hit like a semi-truck– fast and heavy, crashing into him. He was on his knees, unable to hold himself upright from the force of it. He lost what little food he'd been given hours earlier – undigested chunks of whatever the hell was in that green stuff.

"Please, god," he muttered, swaying on his hands and knees as he continued to retch. The pain increased and suddenly he was coughing up blood.

"Hurts, doesn't it Clark?"

There was Lex, right in front of him. He'd come in while Clark was puking his guts out and he hadn't noticed.

"I can make it stop Clark," Lex said softly. "Just tell me what I want to know."

"Go to hell, Luthor," he snarled, before another coughing fit had him retching and doubled over on the floor of the cage.

Lex's lips turned white as they tightened.

"That's a pity, Clark. Because I could have made this so much easier on you. All you had to do was tell me the source of your power. To tell me how to harness that power. But no, you've got to be the hero, don't you Clark?"

He wheeled away, turning to look at the men. The lever was turned up another notch and Clark found himself screaming once more.

Chapter Fourteen

Parker made her way into the bowels of the Centre, using an old entryway she hoped had been long forgotten. She could hear Lyle stomping in after her.

"Parker," he said in a loud whisper. "This is insane."

She rolled her eyes. Having grown up apart, she and her twin had never seen eye-to-eye. At times, their sibling rivalry had bordered on homicidal tendencies, so it was ridiculous to think he was being so protective now.

"Shut up," she said. "And come on."

She made her way down the deserted corridor. In the old days, the Centre would have been a hive of activity. If there weren't office workers wandering the corridors, there would be test subjects or surrogate mothers. She sighed. She used to know every inch of this place. Now it just seemed ... weird. It was disconcerting, being back here.

Parker found her way to the security wing. She'd once been head of security here, until her father had requested that she take on the Jarod pursuit. She laughed quietly to herself when she thought of those five years. Jarod had certainly led her on a few wild goose chases. She remembered one particular time in Las Vegas when she'd come very close to getting Jarod. He'd informed the security at the casino that she was suspected of cheating, or something like that. Security had done a full strip search. Months later, when she'd confronted Jarod in the midst of a hurricane, letting out her inner 'bitch' on him, he'd quipped: "this is about that strip search in Las Vega, isn't it?"

She sighed happily, remembering the last time Jarod had done a full body search on her, with just his tongue. He had an amazing tongue, she thought, her body tingling at the memory. One good thing about him being a Pretender was that he read a lot. And he had read a lot of books on sex. Of course, she'd often told him, there was reading and then there was doing. And she'd proceeded to demonstrate on him exactly what she meant.

"Oh," he'd laughed, bringing up some theory or another before she'd shut him up with a kiss, then slid down his body to give another part of his anatomy the kiss of life. One thing about their sex life was it was never boring. Even after two kids and seven years together.

"What are you looking for?" Lyle asked as she went to open the main door.

"Jarod."

"I can't let you do this Parker," he said.

Parker looked, her face dropping at the gun in his hand. He reached around to the back of her pants, pulling out her own gun.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Yeah, right. And I'm the Queen of England."

He marched her along the corridor to his office. She was made to sit on his couch, where he stood with the gun trained on her.

"You see, I want things back the way they used to be. This Luthor, he's a fucking nutcase. And I think, between you, me and Jarod, we can make this place great again. Imagine what we can do with our own Pretender."

"He'll never go for it," Parker said, her eyes on her brother.

"That's where you're wrong. If there's one thing that Jarod does care about, it's family. So, if I hold you over his head, he'll do anything I tell him to."

She glared at him, eyes narrowed.

"Luthor's not the only crazy son of a bitch," she said.

"Aw, now that hurts, Parker. You know I don't want to hurt you. We're family."

"Hmm, I seem to remember someone sending me into a building with a bomb about to go off."

Lyle grinned and shook his head.

"Bygones," he said.

He picked up his office phone and dialled a number.

"Everything's in place. Inform Mr Luthor I have Parker."

The pain stopped again, but Clark, panting, knew it would only be a brief respite.

"Tell me how to use your powers, Clark," Lex said, his face red with anger.

"F-fuck you," Clark told him. "You'll have to kill me."

Blood was dripping from his nose again. Clark knew it was only a matter of time before the Kryptonite in his system built up enough to either make him pass out or cause some kind of cerebral haemorrhage. Part of him wanted to stop fighting and just let it happen. But his survival instincts wouldn't let him.

He tried to sit up, all the strength in him gone. But he managed to lift his head up enough to look at Jane, his eyes pleading.

"She won't help you," Lex said softly. "She's trained to be loyal to me."

"Like a fucking lap dog, is that it Luthor?"

Lex figured he must really be in a lot of pain for him to talk that way. The only other time he'd ever heard Clark use that kind of language was under the influence of the red rock.

Clark looked at him, his eyes puffy from the tears he'd shed in pain, bloodshot.

"I'll never give you what you want," Clark told him. "Never."

"We could have done so much together," Lex said, allowing his voice to show pity that he didn't feel. He was just angry. So angry. "You could have told me your secret."

"Is it any wonder I didn't trust you," Clark said weakly. "When all you ever did was in the pursuit of power. God knows what you would have done with my powers. I was right not to trust you."

"Go to hell, Clark."

"You first, Luthor."

Clark watched as Lex turned away, nodding to his man on the machine. He took a deep breath, knowing what was coming, and prepared to fight it just the same. He screamed in agony, his body convulsing as the Kryptonite was built up to full force, then dropped, giving him only a second's breather before being turned up again. His screams echoed through the lab. His body contorted with the convulsions that shook him, his eyes bulging with the strain. They were about to torture him into a slow death, dropping the levels every few seconds to allow his body to recover slightly before turning up the levels once more.

Oliver donned his Green Arrow outfit, following JJ and Charles as they made their way to the motel.

"Parker?" JJ called as he opened the room door. There was no sign of her.

"Damn it," he said, turning to the two men. "She's gone to the Centre. She never could do what she was told."

Charles looked at his son, shaking his head.

"Do you expect anything else?" he said, touching JJ's shoulder.

"Come on," Green Arrow said. "We have work to do."

Jarod sat at the computer terminal, forced to work on his newest simulation, guarded by one of Luthor's men. He could hear the screams of Clark Kent.

"Hang on, kid," he said softly.

He looked up as Luthor came into the room, followed closely by his sister.

"Well?"

"I've researched as much as I can," Jarod said. "I believe there was a transfer of powers some years ago."

"Lana?" Lex asked.

"No. Some boy named Eric Summers. He claimed to have received powers after a lightning strike. He showed increased agility, strength and speed. But he couldn't control them. He was locked up in a mental institution."

Luthor nodded.

"A regular occurrence when meteor rock was involved."

Jarod looked at him.

"This meteor rock is dangerous. It not only brings out latent abilities, but it can engender psychosis." He didn't say it but he was thinking it. Luthor had already been exposed to the meteor rock several times over. He was clearly suffering from the same mental instability that Jarod had seen in other cases of exposure.

"I'll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself, Pretender," he snarled, appearing to read Jarod's thoughts. He turned to Jane.

"Work with Jarod, pet. I want to know what will happen to me if I take Clark's powers."

"Of course, if he's dead," Jarod said, shuddering as the boy's screams suddenly stopped, "there wouldn't be much chance of that." It sounded deathly quiet in the sim lab, not even the hum of the machine exposing Clark to the poison could be heard.

Lex turned to one of his men.

"Stop the Kryptonite, he ordered. "I don't want Clark permanently damaged. At least," he said with a smirk for Jarod's benefit, "not yet."

Chapter Fifteen

Clark lay in the cage, gathering his strength. He was damned if he was going to sit here and take this. It was probably suicide, but right now he just didn't care. He knew they'd turned off the Kryptonite, but he let them think he was too weak to do anything.

Clark was well aware he wouldn't have the strength to try and break the cage door. So he knew there was only one chance. Lex might try and call his bluff, of course, but he needed to fight. He waited, pretending to be unconscious, hoping they might open the door at least. But it looked like Lex intended to keep him in here.

It was clear that Lex wanted to leech his powers. He wasn't sure if he knew how to do it. But at a guess, he would say that the Pretender might be smart enough to figure it out. He'd tried begging her to help him, but either she was so brainwashed that she couldn't help him, or she didn't want to help. He hoped it was the former rather than the latter.

Clark had no idea whether help was on the way. He didn't know if Oliver's team knew where he was. He wasn't about to bank his hopes on help that may never arrive.

Eyes half closed, he listened to the two men's voices talking quietly in the corner. They were joking about the animal in the cage. He hated them. Even more than he hated Lex. Some parts of him could only pity the man Lex had become. Crippled by his injuries, it had awakened the madness within.

He had often wondered over the years whether he could have ever told Lex his secret. Now he knew he couldn't. He'd done the right thing by not telling him. Lex's hunger for power would have made him greedy for more and he'd have still gone down the dark path. Clark knew that for certain now. It didn't matter whether they would have stayed friends. Clark could no longer take responsibility for Lex's actions.

He remembered something Lex had once said to him.

"There's a darkness in me I can't always control. Your friendship helps keep it at bay."

How dare Lex put that kind of burden on him? He'd spent half his teenage years blaming himself for the problems caused by the meteor shower in 1989. It wasn't his fault. He was just a baby. The meteors had been pieces of his homeworld. And damn it, he wasn't responsible for that. He was tired of feeling guilty for being what he was. Lex had no right to imply that it was his fault for him being evil. He, Lex, had made those choices. And now, he was pissed off.

One of the men approached the cage, probably curious as to why the 'animal' hadn't woken up or tried to say something cutting. Clark took a deep breath and lunged, grabbing the man who had been standing close to the bars, slipping his arm through the bars around the man's neck. He might be weak, but at least he was able to think clearly. He grabbed the man's baton, holding it like a bar against the man's throat.

The other man went to the machine.

"Don't do it," Clark said. "I swear I'll break this guy's neck." The second man's hand was on the lever and Clark prepared himself for the rush of pain. He pulled harder and the man in front of him grunted in pain.

"You're bluffing Clark," Lex's voice said. He'd obviously seen what was about to happen. "I know you don't want to kill anyone."

"Yeah, well I'm thinking I might have to revise that little strategy." He pulled harder and his captive moaned in pain. "Tell them to open the door."

"You'll never make it Clark," Lex warned softly.

"Who says I'm going to try to escape, Luthor. Because right now, I think I could go a couple of rounds with you. I'd say the odds are pretty much even."

Lex snorted. He looked at the other man and nodded. Clark was hit with the full strength Kryptonite, forcing him to immediately drop the makeshift weapon, falling to his knees.

Oh god, the pain, he thought, as his head exploded. He screamed, his hands over his ears, blood pouring through his fingertips. His last thought as he blacked out was he wished he'd had more time to tell Lois how he felt about her.

Lex watched, his face white with fury. God damn Clark for making it come to this.

Jarod watched the monitor, seeing the boy collapse one more time. It was now or never, he thought.

"You really going to just sit there and let Luthor do this," he said to his sister.

She was watching the same monitor. Jarod was satisfied that her attention was completely focused on what was happening in the sim lab. His fingers flew over the keyboard, one eye on the computer screen in front of him and the other on her.

"He's my Master."

"You don't have to listen to him, Jane," he said. "You are not a puppet."

She looked up at him, just as he pressed enter.

"You don't understand," she said. For the first time, Jarod saw a flicker of something behind her eyes. Maybe there was hope for her yet.

"I do understand. More than you know," he said. "I was once where you are. Abused. Exploited."

He continued to speak quietly, knowing Luthor could return at any moment.

"You have to help me stop this," he said.

"She's not doing anything of the sort," Luthor said. Jarod rolled his eyes. He'd hoped to have had more time to try to get through to her. "And neither are you. I may not get Clark Kent's powers, but there is enough data for you to come up with something just as suitable."

"Your experiments with the meteor rocks will not help you Luthor. And neither will I."

Luthor glared at him.

"We'll see about that," he snarled. He picked up the phone on the desk. "Bring her in here Lyle. Don't keep me waiting."

Chapter Sixteen

"There's the signal," JJ said, picking up his phone. "Let's go."

Oliver glanced at him. They were perched on the hill overlooking the huge complex which was the Centre. To any outsider, it looked just look any normal complex. But from what he'd managed to glean from his companions, it was a place shrouded in secrecy. No one in Blue Cove was really aware of what went on in that place. And from what he'd heard, there were horrors there that even he couldn't imagine.

The plan was for them to separate. JJ and Charles would enter through one of the many hidden tunnels inside, while Oliver would get in from the roof. After all, what was the point of having all those toys if he didn't get to use them once in a while. Oliver ran toward the building, his two companions right behind him. He scaled the fence, getting as close to the complex as possible. He fired off a harpoon arrow, transforming the bow and attaching it to the steel cable.

"Good luck," Charles said as he turned to run with JJ. Oliver nodded.

Sam stood in Lyle's office. The phone in his pocket vibrated twice and was still. He glanced at Parker and she nodded. Lyle glanced at his own phone as it rang.

"What?" he asked. Somewhere along the line he'd picked up on Parker's habit of answering the phone with a 'what' instead of a 'hello'. "Yes sir. Right away sir."

He picked up his gun and trained it on his sister. "Luthor," he said. He gestured for her to get up. Sighing noisily, she followed Sam out of the office and down to the sim lab. Lyle followed close behind, gun in hand.

It only took a few minutes for JJ and Charles to find the entry. They ran through the tunnels to find Angelo, who looked surprised to see the younger copy of Jarod. JJ grinned. Jarod had done a great job of hiding the plan from the empath. It wasn't that they didn't trust him. It was just to protect Angelo.

They made their way to the sub-level, heading for the sim lab.

Oliver had gotten through the roof and was now making his own way down the levels. Two security guards tried to block his way and he quickly took them out with tranquiliser arrows. Alarms blared, alerting security to the intrusion. The elevator was shut down, but that was okay. Oliver opened the doors and used his retracted bow to skim down the cables until he reached the right sub-level.

Jarod noted with satisfaction that Luthor was annoyed at the alarms blaring. He turned in the chair and glared at Jarod, then looked at his pet.

"With me," he said, heading out of the office toward the sim lab. Jarod followed them out, just as Lyle entered the sim lab with Parker and Sam.

Seconds later, JJ and Charles entered, along with Green Arrow, who was armed, pointing his arrow at Luthor.

"Turn the machine off," he said, his voice modulated. "Now," he said, the arrow aimed right at the bald head.

Lyle looked startled as Sam suddenly turned on him, taking his gun away from him before he could resist.

JJ and Charles turned their own weapons on the two men in the sim lab.

"Damn it, do it," Luthor shouted, knowing Green Arrow would kill him if he didn't comply. The two men moved to obey.

Clark lay unconscious on the floor of the cage, blood pooled at his head. Jarod looked anxiously at the prone figure, wondering if he was possibly just a minute too late.

Sam handed Lyle's gun to Parker, and he trained his own gun on the female Pretender, who just stood there, her face white. Sam's threat was unnecessary. Jarod could feel that she was paralysed. He wondered briefly about that, until he realised she was looking straight at Clark's prone form. He felt her fear. Something had changed in her, but she was still struggling with her conditioning. And he wanted to know why.

Luthor, meanwhile, sank in his chair, looking defeated.

"How?" he muttered, his face still angry.

"Maybe we should ask Sun Tzu," Jarod said, grinning at the bald man, who reminded him so much of Raines. Of course, that bald psycho had met a sticky end, probably at the hands of Lyle. His body had been found a few weeks after Jarod and Parker had disappeared that one last time.

"Sun Tzu?" Luthor asked, genuinely perplexed.

Jarod looked at Luthor.

"Sun Tzu said in the Art of War that he could predict the outcome of a battle based on seven things. Which of the two generals inspires their people to follow them into danger, who has the most ability, who has the greater advantage of distance and time, the strongest army, the discipline, the training and who engenders the most loyalty.

"He also said 'All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable."

Luthor had read the book as a child and knew the principles.

"Well, I'm certainly impressed by the history lesson, Pretender," he said, trying for sarcasm.

Jarod grinned at him, shaking his head. "It sounds a lot like chess, doesn't it?" he said. "Each player moves their pieces around the board, getting all the pieces in place in order to trap the king."

Luthor glared at him. "What's your point?"

"Checkmate," Jarod said simply.

Luthor looked around him. He'd set out to trap the Pretender, but he realised now it was a trap for him. And he'd walked, no wheeled himself right into it. He'd been outmanoeuvred by someone, who it turned out, was way smarter than him.

Only Clark, who lay unconscious, possibly near death in the Kryptonite cage, was unaware of the sudden turnaround in events.

Jarod looked at his brother.

"Check on him."

JJ nodded, backing away from the two men and going to the cage where he pulled open the door and did a cursory examination. "He's unconscious. He looks pretty bad Jarod."

Jarod looked at Sam. "Take Clark and make him comfortable. Take her with you. Let her tend to him." It was the first concession he could offer his sister.

"Make sure he gets plenty of sunlight," Oliver suggested. JJ and Sam carried the young man from the cage, taking him gently out of the lab. Jane followed.

Jarod then turned back to Luthor.

"Why don't I tell you how this whole thing played out, hmm? Let's see, why don't we start with The Centre. Over forty years ago, the Centre took a young boy from his parents and trained him as a Pretender. Forcing him to work with concepts a child had no business working with. His parents, desperate to find him, began searching the country for him." He left out his brother, Kyle, figuring it didn't matter. Kyle was dead.

"I know all this," Luthor said.

Jarod shushed him.

"Almost thirty years later and our Pretender discovers his work is being used to hurt people. So he runs away, seeking redemption, learning about the world he has been taken from. But the Centre won't let him be, sending a team to chase him around the country, all while he's searching for answers to the questions he has been asking his entire life. Who is he? Where does he come from?"

Luthor made a face and a noise as if to say he was bored by this story.

"Desperate to get their meal ticket back, the Centre embarks on a quest to recreate the Pretender project, having already seen colossal failures. Their biggest was in the female Pretender. The one called Jane."

"Uh, excuse me," Lyle spoke up. "But I don't think so."

"But I do. See, Lyle, there's one thing they forgot about Pretenders. Something called the Human Factor. By taking away her humanity, raising her the way they did, Jane is unable to relate. Her mind becomes nothing better than a computer. A living, breathing computer. Pretending is about more than predicting outcomes, or solving puzzles based on scenarios. It's about thoughts, emotions. Humans don't behave according to logic, or rationale. Put two men into a situation and they will both experience it differently according to their emotions and experience."

He turned back to Luthor.

"So, here we have a situation where the Centre is losing funding. They know their Pretender is not coming back, so they are forced to sell what's left of their assets. To you. And you use Centre resources to get what you want. By force. By kidnapping and coercion. But you forgot one thing Luthor. Clark Kent isn't just something you can control. He was raised by loving, human parents. And he would never allow himself to be coerced."

"You seem to know an awful lot about Clark, for someone coming in so late in the game," Luthor said.

"Oh, we knew a lot more than you think. After all, that's what I was trained for. Just as I knew that someone from inside the Centre has been manipulating someone at the Foundation. Passing on information to Mr Lyle."

Lyle looked startled at this revelation.

"What?" Parker spoke up.

"You said it yourself, Lyle. When you told me you'd known where we were for years. You figured you could manipulate a situation which would force us both back to the Centre. But see, we have something you don't," she told her brother, grinning. "Loyalty."

Luthor looked at Lyle, questioning. Then back at Jarod.

"Lyle isn't working for you, Luthor. He's always been in this for himself. He wants the Centre back, just the way it used to be, before I escaped. That's why he released the information about the takeover of the Centre on the 'net."

Luthor stared.

"You see, the Centre was a place shrouded in secrecy. And the powers-that-be would never have allowed such information to be let out. Only Lyle, in his infinite stupidity, decided this would be a perfect way to draw us back in. So he stayed, pretending to work for you, all the while putting his own plans in place. He bribed one of our employees to report back to him on what we knew. So we laid false trails, letting him think we were in the dark about Clark Kent. The truth is, we've known about Clark for some time."

Even Oliver looked surprised at this information.

"Yes," Jarod said, looking at him. "I know. But when I sent my brother and father to Smallville, to recruit you, they had to be in a position which allowed you to trust them."

"So how did you find out about Clark Kent?"

"Our foundation helps people not only with specific problems, but also those who are different. I admit, we didn't know everything about Clark. But we did know he had a penchant for helping others. We believed he was like many others in Smallville. Affected by the meteor rock we now know to be Kryptonite."

"Wait a minute," Lyle spoke up. "What about what happened at the motel? You couldn't have predicted what Parker would do."

Parker looked at her brother, taking up the story.

"But he did. We knew the Centre had a lot of places in Blue Cove wired. I knew they had my place bugged, just as I knew that they knew about my conversations with Jarod. So when you came to me that day at the motel, pretending to be concerned for my welfare, I knew you were trying to manipulate me into going to the Centre. We also staged that little argument, about my staying put."

"I didn't know you had it in you, Parker," he said.

"Well," she said, smiling lovingly at her husband. "I was trained by the best." She finished the rest of the story. "So, I go back to the Centre. You 'capture' me, leaving me with Sam, who, by the way, was working for us all along, feeding us information. All we had to do was wait for the signal."

"All the pieces were in place," Jarod told Luthor.

"So you're telling me your 'capture' was all part of the plan?"

Jarod snickered. "Yes. I needed to get myself closer to the action. The only one I couldn't let in on the plan was Angelo. I knew he'd pick up on my emotions and there was a chance that he could give me away. Unintentionally, of course."

"Angelo," Lyle said, as if he'd forgotten about him. "That freak."

"Another victim of the Centre's experiments," Jarod explained at Luthor's puzzled look.

"So, if you had all this planned, why did you need me?" Oliver asked, finally.

"We needed someone Clark could trust. He doesn't know us. Besides, Luthor is your concern. Not ours. We're just here to close the book on this sick chapter of our lives. For good."

"What are you saying?"

Parker smiled coldly at her brother. "Well, first, we're going to make sure that the Centre remains closed. For good. Then we're going to find you a nice padded cell. Where you'll never be able to fake your death, or escape."

"Try Belle Reve," Oliver smirked. "I hear their chicken wings are to die for."

Jarod snickered.

"As for you Luthor. Well, I'll leave your punishment up to the Green Arrow here. I'm sure he knows exactly what to do with you."

"You bet I do," Oliver snarled.

Seventeen

Normally, Jarod would have loved to have given Luthor a taste of his own medicine. But since he looked like a trapped animal, he figured there wasn't much point. Besides, it was clear the man was insane.

The alarms alerting security to the presence of intruders weren't able to get into the sim lab. Jarod had made sure all accesses were blocked to security as soon as Luthor and Lyle were secure. Oliver Queen was calling in favours from the authorities. He'd decided that as much as he wanted to string the man up by a certain part of his anatomy, Clark wouldn't have wanted it that way, so Luthor was being locked up in the maximum security wing of the best mental institution. He would get a nice padded cell for his trouble.

Jarod hugged his wife and she grinned at him.

"Let's go home. Soon," she said. He could tell from the look in her eyes that she was anxious to get back to the children. She was also hoping for a reunion of another sort. Jarod smiled at her, telling her he'd be happy to oblige.

"You know," she continued, "Broots is never going to forgive us for leaving him out of the loop."

Jarod snickered.

"Yeah."

Broots wasn't the most confident of people, but he was good at his job. He would be very put out to realise that the information he'd gotten was already too late. Clark's kidnapping had been the final straw after they'd learned The Centre was in Luthor's hands. It had been the catalyst that had galvanized them into action. But with Lyle's spy in the foundation, they couldn't take the chance of telling Broots.

Jarod checked with Sam on his receiver. All staff were being told the Centre was closing for good. But they were also being taken care of. Jarod had made a number of investments over the years and was now the proud holder of billions of dollars in stocks. He and Parker had always known the Centre would have to close down for good and they'd planned for every contingency. The staff would lose their jobs but they would be well compensated.

JJ and Charles were at this moment planting explosives, while Jarod and Parker walked the halls. They found Oliver Queen on the phone in a bright sunlit area on ground level. He looked at them, nodding. Jane was in the next room, watching over Clark. Jarod went in.

"How is he?"

"Still unconscious," she said in that toneless way of hers. He would have to do something about that. He touched her and she flinched.

Clark's exposure had been considerable. There was no telling just how bad the damage was. His face was lined in pain.

Oliver came in as Jarod was checking Clark over.

"When can he be moved?" Oliver asked.

"I'm not sure," Jarod said. "I've never dealt with alien physiology before."

Jane looked at him.

"I have," she said. "Ma ... Luthor told me to study him." She quickly told him that Clark's physiology was similar to humans but the Kryptonite easily destroyed cells in his body. The longer the exposure, the more cells were destroyed. With the sun, the cells were able to renew themselves. But that also depended on how much Kryptonite there was in his system. Jarod showed no surprise at her volunteering information. Now that Luthor was out of the picture, she'd obviously latched on to the nearest authority figure.

"How long before he'll recover," he asked her.

"A few days," she said softly. "I could stay with him."

"Not if we're blowing this place," Jarod said. He glanced back at Parker, who was standing anxiously at the door. "Would it hurt him if he was moved?"

Jane shook her head. "He just needs quiet, and the sun."

"Did you tell Luthor any of this? That the sun heals Clark?" Oliver asked.

She turned to him, as if noticing him for the first time.

"No," she said quietly, flinching, as if waiting to be punished for it. Jarod touched her shoulder again and she jerked away from him. He frowned. He suspected something, but it would have to wait. He knew the key to her finding her humanity lay in that suspicion.

Jarod left her with Oliver, who was organising for Clark to be moved. He told Oliver to watch her carefully. Given the psychological damage done to her, there was no telling what she might do.

He went to his wife.

"We have to talk to Angelo."

"I know there's no way for him to go back to the way he was," she said softly. "But if he's with us at the foundation ..."

"He'll be more comfortable," Jarod agreed.

He felt a lot of sympathy for Angelo, who had once been called another name. Timmy. As a boy, Angelo had been subjected to an experiment which forced his personality inside himself, allowing only the side that experienced others' emotions to emerge. A few years ago, Sydney and Jarod had worked together to come up with a treatment to help Angelo, but another Centre researcher had been determined to try the experiment on another boy, and Angelo had given up his final treatment to save the boy. The empath had regressed permanently.

The Centre was all Angelo had. Now they were about to destroy his home. But since they'd established the foundation two years ago, it had been their goal to get Angelo away from the Centre and to a place where he could at least live without having to hide in the shadows.

An hour later, all staff accounted for, the small group left the Centre for the last time. Jarod and Parker watched as the devices they'd had set exploded. Angelo watched with them, restless, anxious, but otherwise as happy as he could be to be going to a new home.

Oliver had arranged for Clark to be taken back to the farmhouse in Smallville in his private jet. Jarod watched as they carefully lifted the stretcher carrying the unconscious young man onto the jet. Jane looked at him questioningly. Could he trust her? he wondered.

"I'll keep an eye on her," Oliver murmured. "Looks like she's the only one with the knowledge to help Clark," he said.

Jarod nodded.

"We'll be in Smallville in a couple of days. Parker and I want to make sure Angelo gets settled first."

Oliver nodded. He turned to go up the steps into the plane, then looked down at Jarod.

"Thanks," he said. He frowned, as if he was still trying to figure Jarod out, but he smiled.

Chapter Eighteen

Oliver stayed at the farm, sleeping in a makeshift bed on the sofa in the living room. The few times he'd been at the farmhouse, it had been warm and welcoming. Now it just seemed cold and empty. It had only been about a week since Clark's disappearance.

Both Chloe and Lois stopped by to check on Clark. Oliver had called them and said that Clark was sick with a virus. Only Chloe knew the truth about the kidnapping. Lois went upstairs to Clark's room while Chloe helped Oliver make coffee.

"So where's Lex now?" she asked quietly.

"He's in a treatment facility. Maximum security. He's watched around the clock."

"Have you told Tess yet?"

Since the merger, Oliver and Tess had seemed to grow closer, but Ollie didn't completely trust the red-haired woman. He sometimes wondered if she was still Lex's puppet. She might have seen to it that Lex was declared dead. Just as she'd made sure that Lex had no money left. But Luthor had had to get the funding from somewhere to continue his experiments.

Oliver shook his head. "No. Why should I?"

Chloe sighed.

"So, who's this Jarod?"

"Don't know. I'm still trying to figure that one out myself."

He told her what Jarod had told him about the Centre and his foundation. But they were interrupted by Lois, who looked annoyed.

"You want to tell me about the girl in Clark's room? Looks like she's moved in."

Jane had not left Clark's side since returning. Oliver didn't know if she was waiting for orders or whether it was out of concern for Clark. She was an odd one. But Jarod had said she was psychologically damaged from growing up in the Centre and he would work on a way to help her. Oliver had tried to get her to eat, or take a break, but for two days she had sat by Clark's bedside. Not moving, not talking, just looking after Clark. As if it was her job.

"She's just nursing him."

Lois looked at her ex, scowling. "Yeah, but she's weird. Anyway, if Clark is that sick, why isn't he in a hospital? I mean, is it contagious? The virus, I mean."

Oliver glanced quickly at Chloe to help him out.

"Well, you know how Clark hates hospitals," the blonde girl told her cousin.

"No, actually I don't."

"Well, he does," Chloe said brightly. "Coffee Lois?"

A car pulled up and Oliver went out to check. It was Jarod and Parker with their two children, and an older man. Jarod got out of the car, shushing the twins, who were babbling excitedly.

"Oliver," he said.

Oliver watched as the family and the older man walked up to the porch. Parker smiled at him.

"This is Catherine, and Kyle," she said, introducing the twins. "And this is Sydney. He's a psychiatrist. He used to work with Jarod."

Oliver nodded and shook the older man's hand.

"Oliver Queen," he said.

They went into the house. Chloe and Lois looked at them curiously. There were more introductions.

"So how is Clark?" Jarod finally asked as they settled down with more coffee. The twins had quickly discovered Shelby and were out in the barn playing with the dog.

"He's still sick," Oliver said. "With the virus. Jane has been nursing him."

He gave Jarod a look which said, don't ask. Jarod nodded imperceptibly, glancing at Lois. Oliver had told him that Chloe knew about Clark. Sydney finished his coffee and wandered out to the barn to see the children. He didn't ask questions about Jane, waiting patiently until the girls left.

It was another hour before Chloe could drag Lois away. Concerned for her Smallville, Lois wasn't easily persuaded. Oliver watched them drive away, then turned to Jarod.

"She's been up there since we got back."

Sydney had come back in.

"Often when someone experiences sudden change, they become lost, unable to function. Perhaps she's waiting for instructions. She has, after all, been told what to do her entire life."

"I'm not about to give her an order Sydney. She needs to learn to think for herself."

"And you know as well as I do, Jarod, that some people who have been institutionalised cannot function without some kind of structure. You had that experience yourself when you first escaped the Centre."

"But I got over it," Jarod said. "It was a matter of survival."

"I understand," Sydney told his former pupil. "But you have to remember her experience is entirely different from the way I raised you."

Parker looked at her husband, then at the psychiatrist.

"You mean, she didn't have you," she told the older man warmly.

Jane stood at the top of the stairs, listening to the conversation. She frowned, not sure how to proceed. She'd been told what to do her whole life and she was confused. But she had something important to tell them.

Clark was awake. He was weak. His body was still getting rid of the Kryptonite in his system. But he was awake.

She had been sitting in the chair by his bed when he moaned. His face, pale in the afternoon sun which flooded his room, seemed to be showing better colour. Jane had watched as his eyes slowly opened and she went to him. His expression had darkened and he had turned away from her.

Jane went slowly down the stairs. Jarod heard her.

"What is it?" he asked.

"He's awake."

Oliver got up from the sofa and took the stairs two at a time, rushing past Jane to Clark's room. He grinned at his friend.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," he said.

Clark smiled weakly at the blonde man.

"What happened?"

"You've been out of it for two days, man. Gave us all a pretty good scare."

Clark frowned.

"Two days?"

"Uh-huh."

"So how did I get back here? I thought I was a goner."

"Let's just say you had help from an unexpected source."

He started to fill Clark in until Jane came back in.

"He should rest," Jane said.

Clark scowled at her. "What's she doing here?"

"Er, that's kind of a long story," Oliver said. "But she's right. You need to rest up."

"Isn't she still working for Luthor?" Clark asked, glancing back at her and frowning.

"Not any more. She's been sitting with you for two days. Wouldn't even eat."

"Gee, good for her," Clark said darkly.

Clark had difficulty understanding how she could change sides. But for Jane it was simply a matter of doing what she was told. She was given the task of taking care of Clark and that was what she was going to do. She moved past Oliver back to the chair, sitting down, watching Clark as his friend left the room. Clark turned his head to look at her and she stayed where she was. Just watching. Yawning, Clark closed his eyes.

He knew how close he had come to dying. He'd seen death, no, felt it, before, and knew what it was like. The Kryptonite had drained his strength completely, but his body had shut down to protect itself from the toxin. At least until it had enough strength to return. It was almost like recovering after a long, debilitating illness. He was so tired. Worried about the girl sitting in his room. But too exhausted to care.

It took another day of full sunshine for Clark to return to normal strength. Jarod, Parker and their family had arranged to stay at the Smallville Inn, knowing the little farmhouse was already crowded. Sydney had told Jarod he had his work cut out for him with Jane. Jarod had finally managed to get her to eat and sleep, although she continued to sit in the chair in Clark's room. He also wondered if she'd done as he'd asked because Clark had suggested it, rather than him.

Once Clark was strong enough, he went to talk with Jarod. Oliver had gone to California to discuss some business with JJ, but promised he would be back if he was needed. Jane was now sleeping in the guest room, but Clark didn't completely trust her. She had begun following him around the farm, watching him like a hawk, and he was uncomfortable with that.

When he sat in the living room with Jarod and Sydney, he'd made sure Jane was doing some chores in the barn. She seemed happy to do odd jobs for him and it kept her out of his way.

"So, what are we going to do about her?" he asked the two men.

Sydney looked at Jarod, then sighed.

"From the little I've managed to get from her, it seems she was abused in the Centre." Clark blanched at this. "How much and what exactly, I don't know. But she is showing signs of it. Her reactions at being touched, for one. She will need extensive therapy."

"But there's a problem," Jarod said. "She seems to have attached herself to you. I initially thought she was doing what I told her to, but it doesn't appear that way. Can you think of any reason why?"

"Well," Clark said thoughtfully. "When I kept asking her for her name, she kept giving me a number."

Sydney made a noise and Clark looked at him.

"What?"

"It's right out of Nazi Germany," he said, and Clark got the impression he was speaking from experience. "Prisoners in concentration camps were given numbers. It's a form of dehumanization."

Clark's initial feelings about her made sense.

"So, by making her a number, she's not a person? That's horrible!"

"And it makes perfect sense as to why she is the way she is," Jarod said. "You gave her the name, didn't you?"

Clark nodded.

"That's why she's attached herself to you. You must have reached her in some way."

"All I did was talk to her," Clark protested. "Half the time I don't know whether she was asking questions because she was ordered to or because she genuinely wanted to know. I mean, couldn't she have just switched sides?"

"No," Jarod said. "She hasn't got it in her to do that." He nodded at Clark's puzzled look. "Imagine you've been raised the way she has. Told when to eat, when to sleep, not able to interact with anyone unless it's to do with work. She has one frame of reference for authority, one person she's been told to obey. Suddenly she's told to obey someone else. And she has no real concept of right and wrong."

"But that's also the danger," Sydney said. "She could be exploited for that very reason."

Chloe came in with a bag of clothes she'd got off goodwill for the Pretender.

"She's out in the barn Chloe."

The blonde woman nodded at Clark, picking up the bag and going out to the barn while the three men continued their discussion.

"Jane?" she said, calling out to her.

The older woman came out, wiping her hands. Clark had showed her how to muck the stalls out, but it was messy work. She looked questioningly at Chloe.

"I brought you some clothes," she said, holding out the bag.

"Oh," Jane answered. Chloe put the bag down on the nearest bench.

"So, I got you some tops and some jeans. Your brother said you didn't have ..." Chloe stopped and looked at the other woman, who was looking down at her clothes.

"Are my current clothes not adequate?" she asked. Her black jumpsuit was covered in straw and mud. Chloe wrinkled her nose. She was starting to smell a little. I guess no-one told her to shower, she thought. She knew the situation – as much as Clark could explain it to her.

"Well, I think they could do with a wash," Chloe told Jane.

She held up a dark pink top that would look great with Jane's colouring. "Come on," she said. "Why don't we go in the house and get you cleaned up? Then you can try these on and see what you like."

Jane hesitated. Chloe offered her a friendly smile. "It's okay. Clark asked me to help out."

Jane's expression seemed to change at that. Chloe figured she thought if Clark had said it was okay, then it was okay.

They went into the house where Chloe followed her up to the bathroom. Jane showed no shyness about taking off her clothes in front of someone else. Chloe supposed she was used to that as well. Apparently her every move in the Centre was recorded. As Jane turned to get in the bathtub under the hot water, Chloe saw her back. She gasped. There were scars all over the other woman's back. Old, faded, but still there.

She left Jane to shower and change clothes, taking the jumpsuit downstairs and dumping it in the trash.

"Um, you guys," she said, looking at the three men in the living room.

"Chloe, what's wrong?"

"Er, Clark, I don't know what they did to her in that place, but it must have been pretty bad."

Jarod and Sydney both looked concerned when she told them about the scars she had seen. It confirmed their theory she had been abused. But unless she could learn to trust them long enough to tell them about it, there was little hope of her ever progressing beyond the small strides she had made in the few days she had been at the farm.

Not without Clark anyway.

Jarod looked at him. "Do you think you can talk to her? Get her to trust you enough to open up?"

Clark studied the older man. "I'll try," he promised.

Jarod and Sydney decided the best thing to do would be to leave the two of them alone on the farm for a couple of days. Clark spent a lot of time working on the property, letting her come along to help him with his various chores, although he really didn't need it. He would talk to her about random things, staying away from the subject of the Centre unless she brought it up.

Eventually, she began asking her own questions. Mostly it was things related to the farm. Why he did this, what he used a particular tool for. But she was showing natural curiosity, and there were real signs that she was beginning to think independently.

The night before Jarod was due to return, they sat by the fire drinking hot chocolate.

"Your family's coming back tomorrow," Clark told Jane.

She sipped her hot chocolate and said nothing.

"They want to help," he said softly. "If you'll let them."

She tensed up as he touched her, but didn't push him away.

"Jane, you can talk to me. It's okay to tell someone how you feel."

"I don't ... I'm not supposed to."

"Why?" There was a long silence, as if she was struggling with something.

"They beat me," she said suddenly.

Clark frowned.

"Who did?"

She sighed. "Them."

"The Centre?"

She nodded, then flinched, as if expecting a blow. Clark continued to rub her shoulder softly. Reassuringly. For the first time, she didn't react negatively.

"I was six, I think. They showed me this video of a man being tortured. They wanted me to get inside his head. To feel his feelings, and then tell them what the man was thinking. I started to cry and they asked me why I cried. And I said because I felt it was sad and frightening and all sorts of things. And they beat me for it. Because I felt something."

"You know what they did was wrong, don't you?"

She shook her head. "They owned me," she said, her voice filled with emotions she couldn't express.

"No one owns you Jane. The Centre's gone."

She touched her head. "It's not gone in here."

"You have choices now," Clark said softly. "You can be your own person. You're not in the Centre anymore."

"I still feel it," she said.

Clark frowned at her.

"You feel it?"

She stared at him, realising what she'd said. She looked almost afraid, as if she thought he was going to hurt her. "Is that wrong?"

"No, Jane. It's not."

She sighed.

"I don't know what to do."

"You need to be with your family Jane. Jarod and Sydney, and Parker - they seem to really care about you and want to help you."

She nodded, reaching up and touching the hand that had never left her shoulder. She didn't look at him, just sat there.

Next morning, Clark watched as Jane walked down the porch steps to her brother's waiting car. She turned and looked at him and he smiled reassuringly.

"It'll be okay," he said.

Suddenly she smiled as Parker put an arm around her shoulders. She nodded. He stood for a long time after they'd gone, wondering if he would ever see them again.

Six months later

Clark was working on a story when a woman came in to the Daily Planet. She approached his desk. He looked up at her, not recognising her at first. She was smiling. Her skin showed a healthy glow, as well as a softness that was becoming.

"Jane?" he said.

She nodded.

"Hi," she said softly.

"You look amazing."

She grinned. "Thank you."

There was something else different about her. Her face was so much more animated than before. He got up, inviting her to join him in the staff lounge for some lousy coffee.

"Tastes like diesel fuel," he said, "but it's coffee."

"You should taste Jarod's," she said, laughing at his face. She'd never joked before.

"How?" he asked.

"Sydney. Some pretty intensive therapy." Her eyes clouded slightly. "I'm still not completely there. Jarod and Sydney say it will take a long time, but I'm lots better."

"That's great," he said.

"Clark, I came back because there was something I needed to say. I'm sorry. For what Luthor made me do to you. I hope you can forgive me."

He smiled.

"There's nothing to forgive," he said.

She smiled back. He would never know the incredible gift he had given her. And it had all started with a name. He'd given her humanity.

THE END


End file.
